Frankly, I am not very good at giving people the benefit of the doubt. I often jump to false conclusions about people because my mind takes the first thing it sees and runs off with it.
Most of the time it is completely innocent. The security guy in the building lobby never says hi back to me: he must be clinically depressed. The girl on the train doesn't try to start a conversation with me: she must be homosexual. Obama doesn't return my fan mail: he must be too busy working back channels trying to figure out which position in his cabinet he would like for me.
These, as I say, are innocent. While it might be unfair for me to think that the guy in the lobby is clinically depressed. It doesn't hurt anyone. Sure I might pass and give him my most piteous smile, as if to say "buck up big guy, everything is going to be okay." I mean who doesn't need more of those kinds of smiles in their day. That he doesn't reciprocate is fine. He needs to concentrate his energies on more important things. Reconnecting with his inner child, a long lost parent, or girlfriend with whom he obviously has unfinished business.
They expose my inner compassion, my deft interpersonal prowess, and my fierce love of humanity in its myriad forms.
It's those times when things aren't so innocent that I feel so bad.
"Oh, that guy is walking soooo weird. Why would he walk like that?" Turns out, it's because he has a prosthetic limb. How was I supposed to know that? "Holy weird, that girl keeps looking at me funny. What's her deal?" Turns out, her entire face is a skin graft. Well pardon me. Don't get your panties in a wad.
"These don't hurt anyone either" you say? Yeah well maybe not, but they make me look bad. And that is just unacceptable.
Since this has burned me so often in the past, I have learned to wait a beat before making any conclusions. Just hold off a second, Brett. Maybe you're tarnishing your image with this one. Maybe that guy with the shopping cart has a reason for yelling incoherently. Yes. Yes, Brett, he does. It turns out, he's not shopping at all. No, he's homeless and probably insane. See, that's your reward for patience.
So today, when I got to work, I had to go to the bathroom. I was in a rush, but no amount of urgency could have kept me from noticing that the first urinal I get to is completely covered in piss. There's piss on the bowl, piss on the walls, piss on the floor in a splattery halo around my feet.
The old me would say, "Oh great, some moron forgot that he was a grown ass adult and decided to try to hit the urinal from across the room." or "Yay, just my luck. An inconsiderate asshole lost control of his stream and didn't bother to clean up after himself."
That was the old me.
Given my history, I have to wait a beat. Think it through. Take that person's circumstances into consideration.
And then, like fire from the gods, my Promethean brain hands down the true story. The tragic hero of our tale it seems has been living with a dire problem. He is a business executive, working his life from the bottom rung to the top with a horrible stigma to overcome. Were his colleagues to find out, he may have never become a middle manager. If the proverbial cat got out of the proverbial bag, this inspiring story may have been lost to the annals of American bigotry. It seems that this unassuming soul has a little known condition called Exploding Penis Syndrome.
And then the sympathy kicks in. What would I do if every time I tried to pee, my penis just exploded and reformed before my eyes? Oh, I would weep. I would wail. I would quit my station in embarrassment to roam this great country in search of some lowly Exploding Penis Colony. But it was obvious from the drippy foot prints that trailed out of the bathroom that this was no ordinary man. He did not run. He walked. Strolled. Coolly even. He washed his god forsaken hands! This is no man to pity. This is a man that holds himself to a higher standard and so we must as well.
I only had disdain for the judging eyes as they passed me prostrate on the floor. My papertowelled hands cleaning his pee in an act of reverence.
As Jesus said, "Verily I say unto you, inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me."
And if you don't think I would clean-up Jesus' exploding piss, then you are very much mistaken, my friend.
-Brett
Monday, October 27, 2008
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