14/07/2026
It was a Friday night in mid-May 2021, and I arrived alone at a birthday party in a great mood.
The house was right on Scarborough Beach. I'd heard the catering was Brazilian BBQ and, while I didn't know many people, there would at least be a few family members there I hadn't seen in ages.
Drink in hand, I greeted the host and immediately fell into a small group that included him and four other people I had known my whole life. The conversation turned to political correctness, and I told a long, funny joke I had heard, complete with a Scottish accent and multiple characters, that had them all doubled over laughing.
"Donna, you HAVE to tell this to everyone. It'll really get the party started," the host said, and started calling people over for an encore.
"Please, I'm not doing that," I said, and changed the subject.
The night moved on, and I forgot all about it.
I was 30 minutes deep into an interesting conversation with someone I had just met when the clink of a glass rang out, signalling everyone to gather around. Before the speeches started, the host asked if I could join him up the front.
Like an idiot, I didn't catch on. I thought he needed a hand cutting the cake or something, so I headed up to help.
Instead, he said, "Donna told a few of us a hilarious story earlier tonight, and I've asked her to tell the joke now before we get into the thank yous and speeches."
"No. I already told you I don't want to. Please don't make me," I whispered.
This went back and forth until I felt I had no choice. Everyone was looking at me with expectation.
I froze.
My mind went completely blank. At that point, I honestly couldn't have remembered the joke if my life depended on it.
I tried to stumble through it. I shot "please save me" looks to the people there I knew. I got nothing.
Eventually, a kind guest read the room and jumped in with something like, "Maybe we can hear it another time. What's next on the agenda? "
I could have married that man on the spot.
I drove home feeling so small I might as well have been five years old again.
I don't know what upset me more: the total embarrassment that my clear boundaries were repeatedly ignored, or the fact that my people didn't jump in to save me like I knew I would have for them. A stranger did.
A few weeks later, the host sincerely apologised, and I forgave him, of course.
Recently, Helium has been working with a branding strategist, Warren from Marketing Why, to help better understand who we are culturally, both internally and externally. The process involves identifying themes through one-on-one coffees with me, workshops with the whole team that Scott (the founder) has popped back for, chats with clients and so on.
I was interested to hear that kindness kept coming up as a theme, along with assertive and very smart. At first, it seemed a little lightweight and soft. So I found myself asking: when was a time I had been on the receiving end of kindness? Who was it, and what impact did it have?
I kept coming back to the thought of that stranger at the party. Not the host or the people I’d known my entire life.
He showed compassion and stepped up when he didn't have to. And that is the part of that night I choose to focus on.
Maybe kindness isn't so lightweight a trait after all. In fact, to me, that man was the most powerful person in the room.
