On Finishing Last

Being committed as I am to fairness, justice, and being nice, life can sometimes be hard. I'm a nice person, but that doesn't mean I don't know you're stepping on me. It doesn't mean I don't know that you've cut me out, flipped me off, taken advantage, or otherwise put yourself ahead of me. I assure you, I do. I make no claim to sainthood. That person, who makes like they want to turn right into traffic but then upon my go-ahead noses out to sit in front of me and hold up everyone who does follow the rules, while they wait for clear room to make their illegal and downright rude LEFT? That person? I hate that person with the fire of a thousand suns. And is there a thank-you wave? No. More often, there is a sneer of contempt. "Sucker!" they seem to sneer. "What an ass."

The problem is, it's just too easy to think that you should be rewarded for being good. Similarly, no one who is bad appears to be punished, in particular. I mean, you can console yourself with dreams of karmic retribution, or say things like "what goes around comes around," but I've been around long enough to get pretty darn cynical about the likelihood that any of us will truly get what we deserve, good or bad. The good do die young, but so do the a-holes, in equal measure. And bad things happen to all of us. So what's the point, really?

The point is, I have made a decision to conduct my life in a certain way, and while I'm tested almost daily by those have never bothered to give it a thought, I remain true. This is what I want: I want to like the person I am.

And yes, I know. I will finish last, behind all those who made the left, those smoking cigars in outside eateries, and the loud sighers on the slow-moving lines at the grocery store, who yell into their cell phones about how long it's taking.

I was recently in the parking lot of a small mall, and much to my surprise there was an available spot for me. As I traveled along, following the very clearly displayed arrows toward the spot - I was the only one on my way there; it was mine - someone pulled into the lot from the street, went against the arrows and took the spot. Just like that, my spot was gone, and my world was dimmer. I stopped behind him, in disbelief. I imagined all the things I might do to him, his car, his smirky assface. I was, simply, enraged. It was so clearly, patently my rightful spot, and he so clearly, patently didn't care. But here's the thing. I am never going to be the person who behaves that way. And so, I have to get used to getting shit on by people who do. So I breathed deep, and proceeded to the underground parking area, and except for the hit my hope for humanity took, no worse off. I haven't forgotten him, and I don't think I ever will. Again, I can't claim I am more forgiving than the next guy. I'm probably not. But. There's a pretty good chance I'm nicer.

So, see you at the end of the line.

Jenny