Two memorable incidents happened to me last week in the Amsterdam airport where I was changing planes while returning from a trip overseas.

The first involved an offensive T-shirt. I thought I was done dealing with offensive T-shirts after writing a column last month about the offensive T-shirt controversy in Orange Beach. Not so. They seem to be sprouting up everywhere these days.

I was standing in line to buy a cup of coffee when a young man, probably not old enough to vote or drive or drink, turned toward me. His T-shirt displayed a cartoonish face sticking out its tongue and the words “God do I hate old people!”

As a member of the white-haired, saggy-cheeked, not-so-nimble set, I took offense, and I no longer take offenses lying down. We old folks can speak our minds because if there are consequences, we won’t be around long enough to suffer them. So rather than let the T-shirt pass, I looked the young man in the eye and said, “What have I done that makes you hate me?”

He froze for a second and then turned and hurried away without a word. Two questions come to mind:

First, had the young man given any thought to the message his shirt conveyed? Maybe he thought it was a joke. If so, it wasn’t funny. His look before hurrying away suggested he was embarrassed — as he should have been. He had lumped billions of his fellow human beings into a category and then dismissed the category. That’s what bigots do. I hope my confronting the young man caused him to think more deeply about values and civility and that when he scurried away, it was to change his shirt.

Second, why would anyone hate old people? Yes, we can be cranky, we’re slow, and (at least in America) we burden our children and grandchildren by soaking up more than our share of the nation’s resources with our Social Security checks and costly medical procedures. But we’re also wise, or at least we should be. Decades of living have taught us some things, and if the young honored and listened to the old (as they do in most other cultures), we could help them avoid repeating our mistakes. Hating old people is immature and foolish.

The second incident in the Amsterdam airport took place in the men’s room. As I was washing my hands, I noticed a man cleaning the sinks and refilling the towel dispensers. The color of his skin and the work he was doing suggested he was not one of Amsterdam’s elite.

I had in my pocket a five-euro note that I would not be spending. That’s about $7. So as I left the men’s room, I placed the note in the man’s hand and said, “Thank you for what you do for us.”

It was a small sum that wouldn’t make much difference in the man’s life. It wasn’t as if I’d offered to send his kids to college. But as the man looked at me, there was disbelief in his eyes. Then he broke into a sudden smile. I got the feeling this might have been the first time anyone had thanked this man for the work he did.

How many other people perform unpleasant but essential tasks and never receive an expression of thanks? What about the men who pick up my garbage at the curb every week? The teenager (or maybe the aging retiree) who cooks my hamburger at Burger King? The orderly who emptied my bedpan when I was hospitalized last year? The cashier behind the bullet-proof glass at the truck stop along I-65? The maid who cleans my hotel room? Does anyone thank those people?

Work should provide three things to the worker. The first is a paycheck. Then comes the satisfaction the worker derives from delivering a service or product that enhances people’s lives. And finally, there are the expressions of gratitude from those benefitting from the worker’s labor.

Many workers never receive expressions of gratitude, so I try to say “Thank you” to those who toil to make my life easier, especially those often overlooked or taken for granted. And I try to do it tangibly as well as verbally.

Richard H. Schmidt is a retired Episcopal priest, editor and author who lives in Fairhope. He can be reached at courier@gulfcoastnewspapers.com.