Someone asked me for an inch …

… but I ended up giving a mile.

I was at home. The phone rang. It was a friend. Well, actually, it was a friend of a friend. (That’s probably irrelevant, but I want to be accurate.)

This friend of a friend gave me a looooong story about her upcoming trip and the things she still had to do before she could leave and how she was pressed for time.

While I was listening and waiting for the inevitable request for a favor, I prepared myself to say “No.” It wasn’t that I had anything important to do but I really, really wanted to say no.

And so, when she finally ended up asking me to run an errand for her, I said “Yes.”

Yeah … I did. 😔 After all, it was just one errand, right?

Well. Not quite.

Initially I agreed to pick up her dry-cleaning. But then she added the post office to the list (“It’s on your way anyhow”) and a stop at a store to pay for an item she had ordered (“It’s right across the street from the post office”) and in order to pay for that item, I had to drive by the bank and cash a check, and on and on.

Of course, I went the “extra mile.” After all, I had agreed to run an errand. And strictly speaking, running an errand can consist of a bunch of little stops, right?

It took me a couple hours to complete all her chores. Luckily I had an SUV because the trunk was filled to bursting point. (Well, not actually, but that’s how it felt … ☺️)

But it did not stop there …

When I arrived at her house, she told me that she was unable to help me unload the car. (“I have been packing all day. If I lift as much as one more grain of sand, my back will break!”)

So, I schlepped everything into her house.

And then I unwrapped the dry-cleaning.

And then I folded it.

And then I put it into her suitcase.

And then I carried her suitcase into my car. (Yes, MY car … Turns out she also needed a ride …)

To make a long story short:

After I dropped her off at the airport, I was the one with the back pain and the lack of time.

And a whole lotta seething anger.


On my way home I called a friend. Not a friend of a friend but a friend. (That’s probably irrelevant, but I want to be accurate.) I told him about my unnerving experience with this friend of a friend’s selfishness and laziness and audacity and unsuitable behavior.

As I was recounting the string of events where one tedious moment led to the next, I had a light bulb experience:

I realized why I choose to get angry at others!

Yes. I CHOOSE to get angry.

At any given tedious moment with this friend of a friend I could have said “No.” But I didn’t. And if that weren’t enough, I blamed her for it.

“Why didn’t she plan her trip better?” I complained to my friend. “Then I wouldn’t have been in the predicament to choose between refusing her request or running all over town! Her poor time management forced me to either end up pain-stricken and stressed or appear heartless and selfish!”

Initially it was unmistakably clear to me that what she had done was all kinds of wrong. But the more I vented to my friend, the more I realized that I was the one making the rules that made her look wrong. Not only that. I also discovered that I’d rather:

– be angry and disappointed with her than have her be angry or disappointed with me.
– make her wrong so I wouldn’t be wrong myself.
– perceive her as lazy and selfish rather than myself. (Because that’s what I would have thought of myself had I not agreed to help her.)

I guess, my anger and judgmentalism tend to increase at the same rate that my ability to own my own wants and needs decrease.

Yikes. 😬 But good to know! 😁

Brigitte Schneider
aka Ms. Yardstick

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