If you’re old enough, you’ll remember that Kleenex brand tissues became the article of choice because of its unique dispensing capability. That’s right! Kleenex was Kleenex because of an innovation that caused each individual tissue to pop-up one at a time.
We have all become complacent in our expectations of product performance. Lately, I’ve noticed that on occasion — usually twice in the life of a box of tissues — the pop-up fails. And these failures come at time-sensitive moments.
The first is at the opening of the package. A sneeze is imminent. You have just discovered the previous box empty and you’ve been digging under the sink or in the cabinet for the back-up. New box in hand, you strip off the tab and slide your fingers through the narrow opening. But instead of the edge of a single sheet, you grasp only large clumps of tissue paper. Wanting to do things right, you continue to discern that one Kleenex — the one that will lead the others to the light.
The sneeze is not so patient. And as the forces of nature bear down on your sinuses, you grab desperately and pull. Thirty-two tissues now await your bidding. And now you’re faced with a moral decision: Do I try to replace the errant Kleenexes? Or do I leave them in a sullen pile for the next user to deal with?
The second failure in each box of Kleenex is more of a random occurrence. Because of improper stacking or a separation of tissues as they were placed in the box, the pop-up sequence fails. The result is somewhat the same as what occurs at the opening of the package. (See description above.)
My true concern with all of this is not with the fact that a large corporation is plotting to frustrate my life. Or even that some of their employees may be sabotaging products knowing that it would evoke great anxiety in people like me.
No, I’m more concerned that I’m frustrated and worried over the orderly departure of tissues from a box. When all around us, the world creaks and groans with injustice and poverty and despair, my emotion is focused on structures of cardboard stuffed with soft paper. When my indignation ought to be centered on how people treat other people, my anger is aimed at things that have almost no value.
In working with people in conflict, I can see I’m not alone. Too often we concentrate on the peripheral problems when the greatest opportunity for reconciliation looms in welcome. Do me a favor, if it looks like I’m thinking about Kleenex, remind me there are more wondrous things to occupy my thoughts and actions.