Not to sound like I’m offering up a strength disguised as a weakness, but I say sorry way too much. The odd thing is, although I’m quick to please and quick to alleviate other’s discomfort, I am definitely not afraid of confrontation. As a Brooklynite, confrontation is one of my major food groups. The Brooklyn food pyramid calls for more beef than most. So many of my “sorries” are born not out of fear or because I’ve wronged someone but out of a sense of compassion.
Cut to me in a Starbucks. I approached the coin operated door with what I thought was unwarranted trepidation. As I put my token in and turned the handle it became clear that my psychic abilities are in fact greater than null. I spied a middle aged rotund man sitting at the porcelain throne conducting business not suitable for a King. He shrieked as I instantly closed the door and offered up my most earnest of apologies through the door. As I gave my brain an ultimatum to forget what it had just saw, I also cursed it for not taking heed to my mild clairvoyance and knocking first. The man in the bathroom let out a “what the expletive!” In between multiple apologies, and bleaching my short term memory I casually suggested, through the still unlocked door, that he lock the door next time. His reply was that he did in fact lock it. Maybe a faulty lock was to blame?The entire ordeal took no more than 5 seconds. Of which 4.7 seconds were spent on apologies and explanations.
Another 5-10 minutes passed before he emerged from the bathroom. For safe measure and to let him know there were no hard feelings and more importantly, no judgment. I said sorry again. The jilted squatter walked pass me without any acknowledgement and with major attitude. I also felt some hint of aggression. As I brushed out my eyebrows in the mirror, some guy tried the bathroom door handle. I escaped the same fate as the jilted squatter before me because I had locked the door. Alas, the lock did work. I was already put off by the guy before me but now I was retroactively incensed. He forgets to lock the door and gives me attitude. Not to be rude but given what my eyes had to see, he should be the one apologizing to me.
I walked through the Starbucks looking to take back my sorry and offer my large friend an outlet for his misguided aggression if he felt like reverting back to behaving like a man. He had already left so I was left holding that hot potato of negative unjust energy.
This and incidents like it have prompted me to implement a policy of taking sorries back. I could just not say sorry but that’s not my style and I don’t want to take away people’s chance to be magnanimous. So if I say sorry, especially where one wasn’t even called for and you decide to take that time to dump your crap on me. Prepare to meet a guy from the projects in Brooklyn, New York. I wanted to channel the bad energy into the face of my bathroom nemesis but this blog will have to do.