Cato was a rich and powerful man. He came from a family that, for generations, had been rich and powerful, in a caste society with all the privileges and norms that entailed. Yet Cato dispensed with most of this–at least in how he went about his day.

He didn’t dress in fancy clothes. He didn’t support a large entourage. He liked to walk the streets of Rome, meeting his fellow citizens, being of use and helping them. As a politician, Cato traveled across the empire, again, without a large baggage train or an advance party to make sure he was treated with the respect accorded to his official position. Sometimes, arriving before the rest of his group, he would arrive in a small town and sit and wait, often without recognition, sometimes quietly enduring snubs or indignities from people who had no idea who he was. When his identity became known and the treatment suddenly changed, Cato would smile and remind them that not all future visitors “would be Catos,” not every Roman would be so understanding or low maintenance.

Needless to say this was all very surprising. One of Rome’s greatest men walking barefoot and bare-headed without fear or favor? A representative of Rome’s great imperial might being kindly and patient, respectful and prudent? This just didn’t happen. Cato could have gotten away with so much worse, indeed he was entitled, legally, culturally, to all sorts of pretentiousness and deference.

Perhaps your job affords you certain privileges. Perhaps you’re used to being treated a certain way. The measure of who you are is how lightly you wear these honors, how approachable you are. Be the kind of person that surprises people:

They were so nice. I was so surprised at how easy they were to deal with.

Be the kind of person that surprises other people with how interested you are in them, how much respect you treat them with, how little use you have for formalities or status symbols. You’ll be amazed at the kind of respect this affords you in the long run, how surprising this really is.