Medicine For A Jerk

Articles

Pepe

Medicine For A Jerk
Mar 28, 2003

What a jerk. The guy I'm talking about is me! I don't always act like one (at least I don't think so), but now and then I slip into the role.

Here's the deal.

Last week we had the biggest snowstorm in Colorado in 90 years. It was a heavy snow that caused hundreds of roofs to collapse. Many, many people were stranded in their homes for several days waiting for their street to be plowed. In my neighborhood we were lucky. The city plowed our street the night that the storm ended. Though they only plowed a one lane path in front of our house, at least we had a way to get out.

It was three days after the storm that I was out running errands. I was headed toward home in a hurry to get dinner made. A short distance from my house, I purposely came around the block in such a way that I could park my car facing the proper direction.

Snow was still piled several feet deep on either side of the traffic lane, and parking was limited to what little area a person had dug out.

As I rounded the bend just up the street from my house, I came upon a small trailer stopped in the middle of the road. A woman was watching a man unload the trailer.

When she noticed me, she glanced to the left side of the trailer. A look of panic appeared on her face as she realized my way was blocked.

I stopped my car in anticipation of turning around. But my imagination played out a scene. I could see myself struggling to get my car turned around in the narrow roadway so I could pull into my parking spot.

Instead of leaving I opened my door and poked my head out. "How long will you be? I live on this side of the street," I said as I pointed to the right.

The man, who was now carrying a vacuum off the back of the trailer, answered, "Just as soon as I get the refrigerator unloaded."

"I'm sorry," the woman added.

I closed my door, and for a split I second thought about waiting there for them to move, just to apply some pressure to the situation. But that would take too much time, so I took off in a huff in the other direction.

At the front of my house, I began the difficult task of getting turned around. I pulled into my driveway, then backed up, and eased into the spot I had cleared on the street. It took no more than about 30 seconds.

Some little voice inside my brain whispered, "That was really difficult, wasn't it?" Another chimed in, "And what else were they supposed to do? It's not like there was an abundance of parking available for them." A third chided, "The guy probably could have used some help with that refrigerator."

If a hole in the ground had been handy right then, I probably would have crawled in it. My day had been building up to the trailer episode. Two sessions of shoveling wet snow coupled with my attempts to work through the day's "to do" list had left me tired and stressed. They had especially made me impatient. Even prior to my errand run I had snapped at my wife a couple times.

It surprises me how my reactions to situations have changed over the years. As a parent of four children I have worn an impatient attitude more often than I like to think. Fortunately, with the passing years my patience muscle has strengthened to the point where I am much more easy-going with my kids than I used to be. But that same patience muscle seems to grow weak more easily than it used to in certain situations. Ironically, I now show less patience for matters of little importance.

The trailer in the street is a fine example. What harm did it really cause me to have my way blocked?

None at all.

And it's not as if these people had set out to annoy anyone.

Getting angry over trivial matters has no value. But it does have the cost of agitating the one who has lost patience and building resentment in the other. This is not a recipe for harmonious living.

I think we all could benefit from a little more mercy, both giving it and receiving it. I certainly have been the recipient of plenty of mercy, especially from our Creator.

So that day as I pondered how I could repair the small rift I had torn open, I saw the man driving his truck down the street, trailer in tow. I waved him down and walked over to his window. "Just wanted to apologize for earlier. I'm the guy who took off in a huff when you had your trailer in the way. I'm sorry about that." He said, "Well, I was trying to get the refrigerator out as fast as I could."

I continued, "I realized after I left, 'What else were they supposed to do?'. You were fine, so just ignore me. I'm really sorry."

With that, I walked off, hoping I made the guy feel a little better.

A spoonful of mercy is the cure for the illness of impatience. Given frequently, it can help one avoid embarrassing situations. It's medicine for the psyche. After all, it is better to avoid playing the part of a jerk than to make up for it afterwards. Now if I can just live that out.

About the author: Pepe is a writer, whose day job as a software engineer keeps him from writing as much as he wants. His work has appeared in several magazines and periodicals. His take on life sometimes gets him a little out of step with the rest of society, but he keeps marching in the parade. You can reach him at wrob@usa.com.

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