He Does a ‘Routine’ Job With Uncommon Kindness

She has seen him often enough to feel she knows him, although their conversation has never moved beyond pleasantries, and, until recently, she did not even know his name.

He was simply there whenever she walked in, perched behind a desk at the Torrance Social Security office, his smile as bright as the badge pinned to the pocket of his security uniform.

Security officer Anthony Williams--an ordinary guy, performing a routine job, but doing it with such grace and good humor that Terri Bellows couldn’t resist calling to tell me about him.

“I know with all the really important stuff going on in the world, this may not be a big deal,” her phone message said. “But I just think you ought to write about this guy, about the way he does his job. . . .

“He has a way of putting everybody at ease. Nobody really wants to be stuck in a Social Security office, but when you’re there with him, you can’t help but feel good.”

*

There’s not much call for columns on ordinary people--folks who have never distinguished themselves through their deeds or misdeeds, never been elected something or sentenced to anything, never saved or cost a life, never struck it rich or hit bottom broke.

So I paid a visit to the Social Security office to see for myself what was so special about this security guard, what would prompt Bellows to praise him so.

She had described him as tall, but he wasn’t really. When he stood up from behind his desk, we were almost eye-to-eye. Still, I could feel what she meant. There is something commanding about his presence: the broad shoulders, the booming voice, that megawatt smile.

And I watched incognito as he dealt with a steady stream of visitors, greeting them in English and Spanish. Gently, he inquired into their needs, directed them to waiting areas, made sure no one was in the wrong line and everyone had the requisite forms.

When I confessed my mission and asked him for an interview, he was both flattered and bewildered. There is nothing special about him, he said; he had no grandiose tales to tell.

“It’s not like I’m in the line of fire every day,” he joked, self-deprecatingly. “I’m just an ordinary guy, doing my job the best I can.”

Ordinary . . . like most of us. Working hard at a job that is often boring, sometimes frustrating, because it pays the car note, the mortgage, the grocery bills.

“I know it’s not a big-deal job,” says Bellows, a Torrance school teacher. “And I know security guards, like cops, get a bad rap. But he does it like it’s not just a job, like he genuinely cares about these people.”

Bellows visits the office regularly, helping her elderly mother sort out Social Security problems.

“I’ve been to Social Security offices all over, and this one is different,” she says. “No matter how crowded it gets, there he is, juggling everybody’s needs . . . talking to people, placating them. And always smiling.

“It’s impossible not to just look at the guy and feel better about life.”

*

This certainly isn’t his dream job, sitting behind a desk in a suburban Social Security office. But at 41, Williams has given up chasing dreams.

He had been a jack-of-all trades--auto mechanic, warehouse worker, computer operator, truck driver--when he came to work four years ago for the private security firm that staffs federal offices.

Now Williams, who lives in South-Central Los Angeles, is studying administration of justice in night classes at El Camino College in hopes of furthering his security guard career.

“My mother always told me it’s not the job, it’s how you do it,” hesays. “She said you should always treat people the way you’d like to be treated, and that’s how I try to live my life.

“And I’ll tell you something . . . You smile at somebody, you find it makes you feel better too.”

Social Security district manager Jeff Brown said Williams’ pleasant demeanor does not go unnoticed. “We get compliments about him all the time. He has a wonderful personality, he’s very helpful, informative. He goes above and beyond the call of duty.”

And he demonstrates that there can be dignity in doing any job well.

“I suppose I could complain,” Williams says. “Could look at it like, ‘I’m just a security guard’ and come in here with a long face. But what good would that do? Everybody’s got problems . . . these folks do, I do.

“But what if you knew you could lighten someone’s burden just by doing the best job you can.”

He smiles. And I smile back and wonder . . . What if?

Sandy Banks’ column is published on Sundays and Tuesdays. Her e-mail address is sandy.banks@latimes.com.