A friend once told me about a visit from her younger sister, who had recently moved from Iowa to New York City and was in DC for a visit. They were in a cab on their way to dinner one night when her sister proceeded to bossily direct the cab driver on the quickest route (did I mention she wasn't from DC?) and then, upon arrival at the restaurant, claimed the he was overcharging them for the ride. As the driver pulled away, apparently before she was ready for him to leave, she swung her bag at the trunk with a thump. My friend, horrified by her little sister's transformation from a polite midwesterner to a noticeably hostile city girl, just shook her head, stared at the ground, and full of frustration asked, "Megan, why can't you just be nice?"
Sometimes the words of my friend ring through my mind as I ask myself, with the same sense of surprise and frustration, "Faith, why can't you just be nice?"
No, I don't assault cab drivers, or anybody at all, for that matter (if you read my last blog, you know that I'm far too averse to conflict to display anything close to that sort of behavior).
It's never premeditated.
It's never outright mean.
I usually do my very best to make up for it.
BUT when it comes to the everyday, spur of the moment stuff, I am sometimes surprised to find that my immediate response to a situation isn't exactly what I would like it to be.
Do you need an example? I'll give you three.
Scenario 1:
A person is standing outside my apartment building (which is controlled access and requires a fob to get in the front door) waiting for a nice person with a fob to come along and let them in (or at least let them sneak in behind).
Nice thing to do: Smile and let them in - even hold the door for them - maybe even say hello.
What Faith does: First, consider going to the back entrance simply to avoid letting the stranger (who obviously has evil intentions) into the building but, instead, decide to let them follow me in.... not happily though (and without a smile), making it clear that I do not approve of unauthorized visitors.
In retrospect Faith asks herself: Why couldn’t you have just been nice? Maybe they knew somebody in the building. Maybe they live in the building and forgot their key. Maybe one day in the not so distant future you will have forgotten your fob and will need somebody (without judgment) to let you in. At the very least, a smile wouldn’t have hurt.
Scenario 2:
I am on a plane, on my way to somewhere with sunshine and a beach (a girl can dream, right?). Somebody sits down in the seat next to me and, with a smile, asks how I am doing.
Nice thing to do: Start a conversation - make a new friend.
What Faith does: Answer their questions (but in such a way that it does not encourage any further conversation), put on my headphones and pull out the April Cosmo.
In retrospect Faith asks herself: Why couldn't you have just been nice? You could have had a really nice conversation and made a new friend but instead you spent the entire flight reading a stupid article about how some random actress is the new Hollywood "It Girl" and what fitness plan she swears by.
(I actually generally come to this conclusion around 1/2 way through the flight at which point attempting to re-start a conversation would be, well, awkward.)
Scenario 3:
I am driving down Fairfax Ave, a road that just happens to have a ton of crosswalks but very few lights, making said crosswalks less like places where cars have to wait for pedestrians and more like places where pedestrians have to wait for cars.
Nice thing to do: Stop the car and allow the poor pedestrian (who has likely been waiting for an extremely long time) cross to the other side.
What Faith does: Drive on through with the rest of the cars.
In retrospect Faith asks herself: Why couldn't you have been nice? Would it have really taken that much time out of your day to let somebody walk across the street? Set an example for other drivers! Initiate the "Stop for Fairfax Crosswalks" revolution of nice-ness!
(Note: I run on this road every morning so I'm often the pedestrian waiting...does that make it any better? I didn't think so.)
I know that my behavior in these scenarios isn't actually all that bad - I get that. The thing is, it's not about how big or small the act, it's about the thought (or, more accurately, the lack of thought) behind it.
I wish that I automatically did the nice, helpful, courteous thing. I want it to come naturally.
I want to be so nice that conversations about me to go something like this:
Person 1: Gosh, that Faith, she is so nice!
Person 2: Isn't she? so thoughtful and caring.
Person 3: Practically an angel.
Person 4: Always putting everyone else's needs before her own.
Person 5: She's a saint.
Person 6: I agree - like Mother Teresa.
Person 7: Right, but not in a showy way. She's just naturally that nice!
Person 8: It's amazing isn't it?
So, yeah, that's what I'm aiming for - basic sainthood.
The problem is, when given a simple opportunity to just be nice, I fall short.
I always seem to wind up back at "Faith, why can't you just be nice?".
I was mulling over this very personality issue on a recent Saturday afternoon as I was driving to Target. I'm not sure how it came up - I probably cut somebody off and then felt bad about it (or something along those lines) - but it was on my mind.
I pulled into the parking lot (packed, as would be expected on a Saturday afternoon at Target) and immediately noticed a man staring, perplexed, at his expensive looking car, which was precariously parked in a way that implied it was stalled. I passed him a couple of times as I circled the lot, thinking "I wonder if he's leaving soon so I can get to that spot he is blocking". It wasn't until I saw other, nicer, Target shoppers lining up behind his bumper that I realized a more appropriate reaction might have been "I wonder if he needs any help."
As the group of 3 or 4 volunteers began to push the car to a safer location, I started to scold myself, "Faith, why can't you just...."
when I noticed the car owner's expression turn from gratitude to concern to sheer panic. What the rest of us could see, but the enthusiastic volunteers (head down and full of focus) could not see was that they were pushing the stalled car, with a world of good intention and a fair amount of speed, directly into another parked car...leaving the owner of the stalled car with a stalled, dented car and an insurance nightmare.
The road to sainthood can be a tricky road to navigate...perhaps, for now, I'll focus on small tasks such as holding doors, stopping at crosswalks, and not assaulting cab drivers who overcharge.
Sometimes the words of my friend ring through my mind as I ask myself, with the same sense of surprise and frustration, "Faith, why can't you just be nice?"
No, I don't assault cab drivers, or anybody at all, for that matter (if you read my last blog, you know that I'm far too averse to conflict to display anything close to that sort of behavior).
It's never premeditated.
It's never outright mean.
I usually do my very best to make up for it.
BUT when it comes to the everyday, spur of the moment stuff, I am sometimes surprised to find that my immediate response to a situation isn't exactly what I would like it to be.
Do you need an example? I'll give you three.
Scenario 1:
A person is standing outside my apartment building (which is controlled access and requires a fob to get in the front door) waiting for a nice person with a fob to come along and let them in (or at least let them sneak in behind).
Nice thing to do: Smile and let them in - even hold the door for them - maybe even say hello.
What Faith does: First, consider going to the back entrance simply to avoid letting the stranger (who obviously has evil intentions) into the building but, instead, decide to let them follow me in.... not happily though (and without a smile), making it clear that I do not approve of unauthorized visitors.
In retrospect Faith asks herself: Why couldn’t you have just been nice? Maybe they knew somebody in the building. Maybe they live in the building and forgot their key. Maybe one day in the not so distant future you will have forgotten your fob and will need somebody (without judgment) to let you in. At the very least, a smile wouldn’t have hurt.
Scenario 2:
I am on a plane, on my way to somewhere with sunshine and a beach (a girl can dream, right?). Somebody sits down in the seat next to me and, with a smile, asks how I am doing.
Nice thing to do: Start a conversation - make a new friend.
What Faith does: Answer their questions (but in such a way that it does not encourage any further conversation), put on my headphones and pull out the April Cosmo.
In retrospect Faith asks herself: Why couldn't you have just been nice? You could have had a really nice conversation and made a new friend but instead you spent the entire flight reading a stupid article about how some random actress is the new Hollywood "It Girl" and what fitness plan she swears by.
(I actually generally come to this conclusion around 1/2 way through the flight at which point attempting to re-start a conversation would be, well, awkward.)
Scenario 3:
I am driving down Fairfax Ave, a road that just happens to have a ton of crosswalks but very few lights, making said crosswalks less like places where cars have to wait for pedestrians and more like places where pedestrians have to wait for cars.
Nice thing to do: Stop the car and allow the poor pedestrian (who has likely been waiting for an extremely long time) cross to the other side.
What Faith does: Drive on through with the rest of the cars.
In retrospect Faith asks herself: Why couldn't you have been nice? Would it have really taken that much time out of your day to let somebody walk across the street? Set an example for other drivers! Initiate the "Stop for Fairfax Crosswalks" revolution of nice-ness!
(Note: I run on this road every morning so I'm often the pedestrian waiting...does that make it any better? I didn't think so.)
I know that my behavior in these scenarios isn't actually all that bad - I get that. The thing is, it's not about how big or small the act, it's about the thought (or, more accurately, the lack of thought) behind it.
I wish that I automatically did the nice, helpful, courteous thing. I want it to come naturally.
I want to be so nice that conversations about me to go something like this:
Person 1: Gosh, that Faith, she is so nice!
Person 2: Isn't she? so thoughtful and caring.
Person 3: Practically an angel.
Person 4: Always putting everyone else's needs before her own.
Person 5: She's a saint.
Person 6: I agree - like Mother Teresa.
Person 7: Right, but not in a showy way. She's just naturally that nice!
Person 8: It's amazing isn't it?
So, yeah, that's what I'm aiming for - basic sainthood.
The problem is, when given a simple opportunity to just be nice, I fall short.
I always seem to wind up back at "Faith, why can't you just be nice?".
I was mulling over this very personality issue on a recent Saturday afternoon as I was driving to Target. I'm not sure how it came up - I probably cut somebody off and then felt bad about it (or something along those lines) - but it was on my mind.
I pulled into the parking lot (packed, as would be expected on a Saturday afternoon at Target) and immediately noticed a man staring, perplexed, at his expensive looking car, which was precariously parked in a way that implied it was stalled. I passed him a couple of times as I circled the lot, thinking "I wonder if he's leaving soon so I can get to that spot he is blocking". It wasn't until I saw other, nicer, Target shoppers lining up behind his bumper that I realized a more appropriate reaction might have been "I wonder if he needs any help."
As the group of 3 or 4 volunteers began to push the car to a safer location, I started to scold myself, "Faith, why can't you just...."
when I noticed the car owner's expression turn from gratitude to concern to sheer panic. What the rest of us could see, but the enthusiastic volunteers (head down and full of focus) could not see was that they were pushing the stalled car, with a world of good intention and a fair amount of speed, directly into another parked car...leaving the owner of the stalled car with a stalled, dented car and an insurance nightmare.
The road to sainthood can be a tricky road to navigate...perhaps, for now, I'll focus on small tasks such as holding doors, stopping at crosswalks, and not assaulting cab drivers who overcharge.
The Faith I knew and remember didn't have a mean bone in her body!!!
ReplyDeleteFaith... seriously? You have to be one of the most genuinely nice people I know! I wish I had your patience and tolerance for crazy people sometimes :)
ReplyDeleteMiss you!