On Thursday, I went to give blood thinking I was doing something useful.
I left with a lesson in leadership.
It was my third attempt.
I’m far from being an everyday hero.
My haemoglobin level was too low.
As my daughters would say: I got knocked back.
In the room, it was thirty-three degrees.
Only one person registering everyone.
Ten people constantly waiting.
In other contexts, it would have taken far less than that for irritation to build.
For people to start sighing, grumbling, walking out.
But there, everyone stayed.
Everyone waited, smiled, understood.
And me, sitting there, already turned away without knowing it before I’d even started, I was moved by this kind of collective calm.
I thought about my definition of leadership.
A leader is someone who is responsible for their world.
It isn’t necessarily about being in charge.
It isn’t always about speaking up.
It isn’t only about being visible.
Sometimes it’s about staying put.
Doing your part.
Contributing to something bigger than your immediate interest.
On the way out, since I hadn’t been able to donate, I left quickly.
A volunteer saw me leaving and stopped me.
He told me I could still stay for the refreshments.
That gesture summed up everything in that room.
It wasn’t transactional.
It was human.
In that room, there were only leaders.
Those giving their blood.
Those organising, welcoming, collecting.
And those waiting without making others carry their discomfort.
We often look for leadership in speeches, decisions, titles.
On Thursday, I saw it in a community hall at thirty-three degrees.
In people calmly waiting to give a little of themselves to strangers.
Maybe that’s where leadership begins: when we agree to do our part, even when no one is watching.
What about you, where have you seen leadership recently, in a place you didn’t expect it?