This morning I was sitting in the Atlanta airport on the way home from a Sanofi meeting. I’d been invited to moderate a patient panel. Since Sanofi will be losing its patent on Lantus it’s launching a new long-acting basal insulin, Toujeo. The main benefits of Toujeo appear to be a low incidence of nighttime hypoglycemia and 24 plus hours of action. For someone who only takes 8 units of Lantus a day I’ve been told and experienced that it doesn’t last me 24 hours. Toujeo would be a meaningful improvement for me.

But this post isn’t about Toujeo or insulin or Sanofi or even people with diabetes. This post is about Maria the washer woman in the Atlanta women’s rest room, Terminal A just aside gate A 9. She made my trip home, after basking in the compliments from the Sanofi reps, a continued high.

With the line snaking out of the rest room, Maria stood at the front of the line announcing each open stall as it became available. “Okay, two on the left, come right here ladies.” “We’ve got one open in the back on the right just for you ma’am.” “C’mon, ladies, shake a leg, right up here.” “Can I hold your package for you ma’am?” I smiled throughout her broadcast and marveled that she had made one of the loneliest and most menial jobs into a little beehive of super-connectivity, made herself vital to us and turned waiting on a ladies room line into a joyful act.

I left the rest room but couldn’t walk more than a few feet before I turned around and walked back in. I asked Maria, “Can I take your photo? “My photo?” she asked dubiously, curiously. Yes, I said, you gave me so much pleasure while I was waiting on line, you’re amazing. She grinned shyly and posed.

Nothing more important going on here than what’s most important – connecting, giving away kindness, creating joy and ease. I’m home now, still thinking of you Maria and still grinning.