I’m Anxious Not To Be Eager
I’ve been observing eagerness. You know, the people who put the tops down on their convertibles when it’s 54 degrees. I’ve driven convertibles since 1992, and I can authoritatively state that it’s uncomfortable at less than, say, 65 degrees with no wind and a speed over 10 MPH.
Then there are the people who jump up and clamber over each other as soon as the plane hits the gate and the captain hits that ridiculous “ping.” A few may have tight connections, but most just want to get moving when, obviously, there’s not going to be any movement for some time.
Some people anxiously push their way into theater lines, even though they have assigned seats. Are they afraid there’s an expiration time that allows “seat jumpers” to move in if you’re not planted there by the appointed minute? And what about the people who honk when someone takes an extra minute at a drive-through or a toll booth? What’s really to be gained? Should people ahead leave without their order or their change?
There are people who wait for the mail carrier, or show up as soon as the coffee shop opens, or want to get the lowest numbered dog licenses as soon as they’re issued. There are those who want to hurriedly finish their appetizers to get to the entre in order to get to dessert, and then to the coffee, and then—where?
I think that punctuality and preparedness are great traits. But being overly eager is like Buddy Beagle planting himself in front of the dog treat drawer because eventually I’ll come and open it.
Of course, he has nothing better to do.
© Alan Weiss 2011. All rights reserved.
