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 K. Schneider
aka Ms. Yardstick