This woman roams the city, handing out compliments to strangers

In Reading Terminal Market one afternoon, amid a scrum of hungry workers fighting the crowd and the clock to grab lunch, Celine McGee interrupts the flow to ask an audacious question:

“Can I give you a compliment for your amazing earrings?” she asks a tourist speeding by Bassetts Ice Cream.

In three seconds, Julie Jones, 55, a Chicago attorney, transforms from alarmed, to puzzled, to delighted.

“It makes me feel good,” Jones says, an artisan’s depiction of a woman’s face dangling from her ears. “It’s uplifting. My first time in Philly and someone’s given me a compliment!”

That, McGee announces, is “a compliment that landed.”

Since 2016, McGee, 44, a senior director in the Philadelphia telecom industry, has been wading into crowds, complimenting strangers. Often, she hands them a card that says, “Compliment Squad,” with instructions to “join the … squad” to “help spread smiles, kindness & human connection.”

Skeptical urbanites who’ve tried to suss out her angle have been stumped. Just what are you selling? some have asked. That all she wants to distribute is sunshine and light — with nothing in return — leaves folks flummoxed.

“It’s simply who I am,” says McGee, who was born in Belgium and moved to the area 15 years ago. Currently, she lives in Kensington.

“You know how when you’re driving and someone cuts you off?” she asks. “You carry the road rage with you all day.

“My goal is the opposite: to give you something positive that stays with you. To lift you up, put you in a good mood. Why wouldn’t I do it?”

Nearly eight years ago, McGee delivered her first official compliment to a woman in Old City who was “wearing a great outfit.” McGee adds, “I got brave. I told her how terrific she looked. Then I saw her huge smile, and I felt she might carry it forward, complimenting someone herself, and creating a ripple effect.” McGee was hooked.

Not surprisingly, she says, there are rules for bestowing compliments. Since everyone is a stranger, you’re looking for something “superficial” to praise — the striking color of a coat or a backpack, the coolness of a pair of sneakers or glasses. Always be genuine. Don’t chase anyone, or try to talk to someone with earbuds. And, “typically, avoid men so no one thinks you’re hitting on them.”

People like McGee don’t happen along often in this world.

“This is definitely quite unusual, especially pursuing this intentionally the way Celine has,” says psychologist Erica Boothby, a lecturer at the Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania who has studied acts of kindness.

We all notice nice things about other people, she says, but “unfortunately” keep them to ourselves. “People want to feel appreciated and valued,” she says, “and expressing messages like these makes everyone feel better — both the compliment giver and the receiver.”

The problem is that “we think all people are sharks when, overwhelmingly, they’re lambs,” says Nicholas Epley, a professor of behavior science at the University of Chicago’s Booth School of Business.

We often won’t compliment another person “because we’re afraid of how they’ll respond,” Epley says. Experiments he’s conducted show that people almost always underestimate “how positive a person you’ve complimented can feel.

“We self-censor too much, but my advice is to try. You can sprinkle a lot of kindness in the world.”

At Reading Terminal Market, McGee continues her lunchtime dispensation of joy.

A teenager’s pink vest pops under the bright lights of Profie’s Creperie, and McGee lets her know she’s been noticed.

“The woman liked my vest,” says Tanya Castillo, 17, of Allentown, smiling. “It’s pretty sweet. It’s something people like to hear when they go out.”

McGee checks the time; work beckons. Normally, she limits herself to 10 to 20 compliments per day, usually within 45 minutes to an hour.

But here comes a fashion-forward woman with a great orange scarf, and McGee just has to hand out one final Compliment Squad card.

“Thank you,” says a beaming Janet Shahan, 80, of Tinicum Township, Bucks County. “You can compliment me today. I’m ready for it.”

In a fitting turnabout, Shahan, a proofreader of SAT tests, can’t stop complimenting McGee.

“That woman was so sweet,” she says. “And did you see that nice pink jacket she was wearing?”