Rain Drops Keep Falling On My Head
I have a friend named Jeff. He is a magician who does magic with a shovel. He can dance gracefully with a construction loader. He is a true craftsman in construction work. We once worked together in a small construction firm -- me as the administrative person; Jeff being the work site supervisor.
I knew Jeff from using his help for our home renovation. He was very reliable, reasonable and very talented in his work. We became friends quickly. I was thrilled to be working with him. I got to know him a lot better as coworkers.
We were issued company credit cards. I knew Jeff hated being on the phone. When the cards arrived, I offered to call in to activate his card for him. After going through the various choices of the automated phone system, I was put on hold with the familiar message from the other side: "Your call is very important to us. Please stay on the line. The next available representative will be with you shortly." Followed the hold music. . . . .
I told Jeff to go do other things while I waited. I placed the phone on hand-free setting and continued to work on other things. Somehow, he just would not go away. He kept pacing back and forth and started muttering to himself. "God damn it! Did they put you on hold? I hate this. These people are jerks." He continued to pound on the floor with his heavy boots, getting angrier by the second.
I found it kind of amusing. I was the one who was on hold, not him. He could just leave this to me, but he wouldn't. Basically, he chose to be on hold by spirit, and he decided to get upset. "Hey, Jeff! Why don't you go get a coffee? I will let you know when I need you?" Little did I expect that these few words poked Jeff like a needle and he exploded right instantaneously. "Assholes! They always treat people this way. Why must they always be such assholes? This world is ridiculous. Why must I go through this? This is so unfair!" Jeff was yelling at the top of his lungs.
"Calm down, Jeff. Why are you so angry? I am on hold, and I am ok with it. Why are you so upset?" I was puzzled. "This is not targeted at you. Everybody gets to be on hold. Everybody goes through the same process." "Oh yeah? I hate dealing with these people. They are jerks. They ask so many questions. They are assholes." That really cracked me up. "Jeff, their job is to activate your new credit card for you. They don't know you. They can't see you. It is their job to make sure you are who you say you are. They don't have a choice. They are just doing their job. People don't go to work only to make your life miserable. Why would you think this way?"
Jeff can never explain to me why he has such unsalvable frustrations and unsoothable anger inside of him which tints the lens through which he views the world. He told me about his 30-mile commute to work every day. He hated every second of the drive. The traffic drove him nuts and every single car on the road was his enemy. It is no news that we have bad traffic in the area. We all expect it to be that way, and we know there is not much we can to change it. But for Jeff, it irritates him all over again every day as if it were new.
When I look at Jeff, I cannot help feeling sad for him. He had a lovely wife and three bright children. Together, they lived on a farm where he raised goats and grew lots of nice vegetables. Yet, he was always angry and bitter.
Some time ago, I heard that his wife left him. The once very well run household turned into chaos. The kids were at a loss and started acting up. The lovely family fell apart. I tried my best to offer help, but what they needed was for his wife, the kids' mother to come home. They needed to figure out how to make things work again. It is beyond my abilities.
I have since lost touch with Jeff. One day, he called me and complained about his daughters. "Those little bitches!" he said. I was stunned. I called him out on that. It is totally unacceptable for a father to use such language on his children, particularly when they have done nothing wrong. Jeff hung up on me. I was stunned once more. I decided not to call him back. He chose not to call me back either. That was the last time we talked.
I ran into Jeff at a grocery store once after that. He came in to get a six-pack of beer at the end of a summer work day. We stood there awkwardly looking at each other. I think we both tried to squeeze out a smile, but neither one knew what to say. That was the last time I saw him.
Every once in a while, I would think of Jeff. I wonder where he is and how he is doing. Despite his constant complaints about everything, his life was actually going quite well when we were friends. Yet, he always manages to make it seem like dark clouds follow him wherever he goes.
I used to feel sorry for Jeff. Why does a good person like him deserve having so many problems all the time? Looking back, I think dark clouds might not have followed Jeff. Perhaps, it was Jeff who chases after the dark clouds after all . . .
I knew Jeff from using his help for our home renovation. He was very reliable, reasonable and very talented in his work. We became friends quickly. I was thrilled to be working with him. I got to know him a lot better as coworkers.
We were issued company credit cards. I knew Jeff hated being on the phone. When the cards arrived, I offered to call in to activate his card for him. After going through the various choices of the automated phone system, I was put on hold with the familiar message from the other side: "Your call is very important to us. Please stay on the line. The next available representative will be with you shortly." Followed the hold music. . . . .
I told Jeff to go do other things while I waited. I placed the phone on hand-free setting and continued to work on other things. Somehow, he just would not go away. He kept pacing back and forth and started muttering to himself. "God damn it! Did they put you on hold? I hate this. These people are jerks." He continued to pound on the floor with his heavy boots, getting angrier by the second.
I found it kind of amusing. I was the one who was on hold, not him. He could just leave this to me, but he wouldn't. Basically, he chose to be on hold by spirit, and he decided to get upset. "Hey, Jeff! Why don't you go get a coffee? I will let you know when I need you?" Little did I expect that these few words poked Jeff like a needle and he exploded right instantaneously. "Assholes! They always treat people this way. Why must they always be such assholes? This world is ridiculous. Why must I go through this? This is so unfair!" Jeff was yelling at the top of his lungs.
"Calm down, Jeff. Why are you so angry? I am on hold, and I am ok with it. Why are you so upset?" I was puzzled. "This is not targeted at you. Everybody gets to be on hold. Everybody goes through the same process." "Oh yeah? I hate dealing with these people. They are jerks. They ask so many questions. They are assholes." That really cracked me up. "Jeff, their job is to activate your new credit card for you. They don't know you. They can't see you. It is their job to make sure you are who you say you are. They don't have a choice. They are just doing their job. People don't go to work only to make your life miserable. Why would you think this way?"
Jeff can never explain to me why he has such unsalvable frustrations and unsoothable anger inside of him which tints the lens through which he views the world. He told me about his 30-mile commute to work every day. He hated every second of the drive. The traffic drove him nuts and every single car on the road was his enemy. It is no news that we have bad traffic in the area. We all expect it to be that way, and we know there is not much we can to change it. But for Jeff, it irritates him all over again every day as if it were new.
When I look at Jeff, I cannot help feeling sad for him. He had a lovely wife and three bright children. Together, they lived on a farm where he raised goats and grew lots of nice vegetables. Yet, he was always angry and bitter.
Some time ago, I heard that his wife left him. The once very well run household turned into chaos. The kids were at a loss and started acting up. The lovely family fell apart. I tried my best to offer help, but what they needed was for his wife, the kids' mother to come home. They needed to figure out how to make things work again. It is beyond my abilities.
I have since lost touch with Jeff. One day, he called me and complained about his daughters. "Those little bitches!" he said. I was stunned. I called him out on that. It is totally unacceptable for a father to use such language on his children, particularly when they have done nothing wrong. Jeff hung up on me. I was stunned once more. I decided not to call him back. He chose not to call me back either. That was the last time we talked.
I ran into Jeff at a grocery store once after that. He came in to get a six-pack of beer at the end of a summer work day. We stood there awkwardly looking at each other. I think we both tried to squeeze out a smile, but neither one knew what to say. That was the last time I saw him.
Every once in a while, I would think of Jeff. I wonder where he is and how he is doing. Despite his constant complaints about everything, his life was actually going quite well when we were friends. Yet, he always manages to make it seem like dark clouds follow him wherever he goes.
I used to feel sorry for Jeff. Why does a good person like him deserve having so many problems all the time? Looking back, I think dark clouds might not have followed Jeff. Perhaps, it was Jeff who chases after the dark clouds after all . . .
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