On reflection, I am always pleasantly surprised when ordinary

Stelios Haji-Ioannou, founder of easyJet and architect of affordable mobility, once reflected with humility: “On reflection, I am always pleasantly surprised when ordinary members of the public stop me in the street to say, ‘Thank you,’ I guess for making travel and other goods and services affordable to them.” These words, though spoken with simplicity, carry within them the weight of transformation. For here is not the boast of a merchant, but the wonder of a man who, by lowering barriers, allowed the many to grasp what once belonged only to the few.

The meaning is clear: to make travel affordable is to open the world. In past generations, the privilege of flight was reserved for the wealthy, a luxury wrapped in velvet and exclusivity. But Stelios, through innovation and persistence, turned that luxury into accessibility. He speaks of the gratitude of the public, not as fleeting praise, but as the voice of humanity awakened to new possibilities—students seeing Europe for the first time, families reuniting across seas, workers broadening their horizons. His astonishment lies in realizing that business, when guided by vision, can reshape destiny.

The origin of this gratitude is ancient. History remembers those who widened the gates of possibility. When Gutenberg gave the printing press to the world, the public was lifted from ignorance to knowledge, and ordinary men could read sacred texts once locked away. When Ford built the motor car not as a toy for the elite but as a tool for the common man, he changed how millions lived and worked. And when Stelios cut the price of travel, he joined this lineage of liberators, turning aspiration into reality for countless souls.

The heart of his wonder lies in the words: “I am always pleasantly surprised.” This reveals humility. For he did not expect the Thank you of strangers; he did not seek statues or songs. Yet he is stopped in the street, greeted by those whose lives he unknowingly touched. This is the true measure of impact: not fame, nor riches, but the whispered gratitude of the ordinary, whose days have been lifted by your work. To be surprised by gratitude is to live not in entitlement, but in awe.

There is a lesson here in the nature of service. Too often, ambition seeks only personal glory or wealth. But when ambition is harnessed to the needs of the many, it becomes noble. The lowering of barriers, the widening of access, the making of things affordable—these are acts that endure longer than monuments. For people do not remember the height of a man’s fortune; they remember how he made their lives freer, lighter, fuller.

One may recall, too, the tale of Cyrus the Great. He conquered vast lands, but he is remembered less for conquest and more for his Cyrus Cylinder, proclaiming freedom and rights to the peoples he ruled. His greatness lay not in possession but in generosity, not in hoarding but in sharing. So too with Stelios: his greatness lies not merely in building an airline, but in the unseen millions who could finally step onto planes because of him, whispering “thank you” in languages he may never hear.

Thus, the teaching is eternal: measure your life not by what you keep, but by what you give. If your work opens doors for others—if it brings travel, knowledge, health, or hope within reach of those who once stood outside—then you have touched eternity. The public’s gratitude, freely given, is the crown of such service.

Practical counsel follows: seek always to lower barriers. In your craft, ask not only what profits you, but what frees others. In your life, pursue not only what elevates you, but what lifts the many. And when gratitude comes, accept it with humility and wonder, as Stelios did. For in the end, the greatest wealth is not in possessions, but in the whispered Thank you carried on the breath of those whose lives you have changed.