That’s Not My Problem

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I have a slow leak in my front tire so every three or four days I have to add a little air before I head off to work.

It’s irritating and I tried to have it repaired, but that didn’t work out.

So, to the air pumps I go.

And every single time the hose is a mess and it’s always tangled with the vacuum hose, despite the sign that says, “Please wind up the air hose when you’re done.”

The guy before me (every time) just can’t be bothered.

It aggravates me.

Headed to a job and immediately got into it with a guy who doesn’t believe in wearing a mask.

“I’ll do it at work or at the grocery store, but if there’s not a sign up, I ain’t doing it.”

I have a gator-type mask. I pulled it up.

“That’s too hard to do when you’re out?”

“I don’t want to be controlled!” He said, too loudly.

“I wear it for the next guy,” I said. “I try to think about the guy next to me. Maybe he’s sick or maybe his wife has cancer.”

I pulled the gator up and down again.

“That’s not a big deal.”

“He should protect himself,” he said. “I’ll do my own thing.”

“Okay, my Mom is 80. If she goes out, I want everyone around her wearing a mask.”

He shook his head.

“All due respect, your Mom is not my problem.”

When did we arrive here???

I do me and you do you and if my shit gets in your way, well, that’s too bad.

That’s your problem.

Not mine.

I coiled up the air hose when I was done using it.

I even took care of the vacuum hose.

Thinking about the next guy.

Not wanting to add to his or her problem.

It wasn’t a sacrifice.

I don’t deserve thanks.

Basic human decency.

SMFH

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