Little things make a big difference

I never imagined I would find myself working at BC Ferries, but sometimes life takes you somewhere unexpected and you discover it’s exactly where you needed to be.

For 25 years, I worked for myself in the coaching and wellness industry as a kickboxing coach, life coach, yoga instructor and yoga therapist. I also ran a martial arts and taekwondo school with more than 250 families. Then COVID hit, my business was forced to close, and I was devastated.

Quite a few of my clients worked at BC Ferries, and they kept encouraging me to apply. “Rebecca, you should come work with us. You’re already like part of our extended family.” When an opportunity came up, I applied, and voilà!

I trained at Duke Point, Departure Bay and Nanaimo Harbour, which became my point of assembly. Some of the women I’d known for years were working there and walking into that familiar community made me feel like I was getting a piece of my life back.

That was five years ago. Since then, I’ve become a SEA trainer, taken on the role of site safety secretary, completed my union training and become actively involved in my workplace. I absolutely love it. I get to connect with people every day and feel like I’m making a difference in my community.

Working downtown at Nanaimo Harbour, we meet people on some of the best and worst days of their lives. We see passengers dealing with mental health challenges, addiction, financial stress, relationship difficulties and countless things we may never know about.

It takes a certain kind of person to work with the public. One thing I wish passengers understood is that we’re people too. We genuinely do our best to make their travel go smoothly, but we can’t control everything that happens in their day. When people are stressed or expectations aren’t met, they sometimes react poorly.

I understand that. But I often think that if you met that same employee in the grocery store, you’d probably be standing in line having a laugh together. We’re all just people trying to get through our day.

A couple of years ago, I started keeping little cards in my ticket booth. I call them compassion cards. I designed them myself, each with a short message of kindness or encouragement.I make a point of asking passengers how their day is going. Sometimes they’re having a wonderful day, and sometimes they’re sitting in the driver’s seat barely holding themselves together. When I sense someone is having a particularly difficult day, I hand them a card.

I can’t tell you how many people have returned the next day, the following week, or even parked their car and walked straight back to the booth to tell me, “You have no idea how much I needed this today.”

Those cards took me maybe half an hour to make, sitting on my couch one evening with my dogs. Something so small has meant so much to the people receiving them.

That’s what I love about kindness. It doesn’t have to be complicated. You don’t need to make cards. Sometimes a genuine smile, a little patience or taking an extra moment to listen can mean just as much.

Life doesn’t stop when we’re struggling. We still have to buy groceries, get into the ferry lineup and find our way home after a difficult day. Sometimes we just need someone to hold a little space for us.

That same belief is really where ANCHOR began. When my business closed during COVID, I struggled to navigate the services and resources I needed. I remember thinking that I was educated, had a support network and was fortunate in many ways, yet I was still having difficulty figuring out where to turn. If I was struggling to find help, how was someone in crisis supposed to manage it?

Then, a couple of years ago, I lost a friend who had been dealing with a health issue similar to my own. She had gone to the emergency room and died. She didn’t have a family doctor or access to the same care and support network I had. Her death affected me deeply. The next day, I decided I was going to do something about it. I wanted to create something people could keep on their phones to help them find support when life became difficult. So I did.

I spent the next two years creating ANCHOR. There are so many valuable services across British Columbia, but finding them isn’t always easy. Information is scattered across different organizations, websites and systems are fragmented. When someone is overwhelmed or in crisis, trying to piece everything together can feel impossible. ANCHOR brings trusted resources together in one accessible place. My hope is that people have it on their phones long before they ever need it.

Through our partnership with the BC Ferry & Marine Workers’ Union, members and their families also have access to a dedicated pathway with practical tools for everyday life, from recognizing when a coworker is struggling and supporting a friend to creating safety plans, managing stress and navigating financial challenges. These are skills we can all learn, particularly in workplaces like ours, where people can carry enormous amounts of stress without always knowing how to express it or where to turn.

One of the biggest things I’ve learned, both through coaching and my time at BC Ferries, is that we often underestimate how much the little things matter. Helping someone doesn’t always require a grand gesture. It might be asking a coworker how they’re doing and genuinely listening, showing a little extra patience with a passenger, or knowing where to direct someone who needs support.

We never really know what another person is carrying into their day. The frustrated passenger might be heading to a hospital. The unusually quiet coworker might be struggling at home. The person who appears to have everything together might be having the hardest time of all.
If we could approach one another with the understanding that we’re all human and simply trying to do the best we can with the day we’ve been given, I think we’d find it a little easier to be kind.

When I reflect on the past five years, from losing my business to finding a new community at BC Ferries and eventually creating ANCHOR, I keep coming back to those little compassion cards sitting in my ticket booth.

You don’t have to change someone’s whole life to make a difference in it. Sometimes you just have to make one difficult moment a little easier.

Little things really can make a big difference.

Rebecca Stephens, Local 2