Every so often, I believe the universe likes to remind you that ‘you could be better’. It’s like when you see hemp wearing do-good-ers giving up their evenings or weekends to raise money for charity…in the rain...on crutches. The cynical side of me likes to think that they are getting paid for such activities, but what if they aren’t? Not only does that make me a bad person for not doing the same, but for also being so negative to a genuine good soul.
I had my bank account cloned a few years ago, and out of the blue a lovely do-good-er from the local branch called my mobile to advise that some transactions had gone through my account, and they wanted to ensure that they had been made by me. Fair enough, I thought, off we go, and so the questions began…
Do-good-er: Have you given to the Alziehiemers society?
Me: Ummm, No.
Do-good-er: Have you given to the Oxfam?
Me: Ummm, No.
Do-good-er: Have you given to the RSPCA?
Me: Ummm, No. Oh wait, yes…ah, not by my bank, no.
Do-good-er: Have you given to NSPCC?
Me: God no, I really hate children…sorry I mean no.
Do-good-er: Have you given to Red Cross?
Me: Ok, so I think we have discovered that I am a bad person, now what about my bank account…
Yes, of course I was grateful that the bank had stopped my money being taken, but surely I am due bad karma for begrudging the charities the money…bar children charities, I much prefer animals and let’s face it, I really don’t like sprogs.
Of course, these gentle nudges don’t have to come from good sources, they can be prompted by not-so-good occurrences. For example, Burglary. Bear with me, I am going somewhere with this…
When I lived in my last home, someone attempted to burgle my house, but luckily they realised I was at home and hot footed it back out of my kitchen door. The police arrived promptly and asked me to go over the house to tell them what had been taken (sheer miracle – nothing had been), but as they went around the rooms with me, the PC entered and said ‘Oh no, they’ve been in here’ and indicated to the mess hurled on the armchair. I looked over to investigate the damage, only to realise the ‘disturbance’ she referred to, was my washing that I hadn’t yet hung up. Unable to admit my slovenliness, I simply nodded with my lips grimaced over a teeth bitten tongue. You see ‘could do better’.
On a similar strain, whenever himself and I order takeaway he either has to come with me to collect it, or he has to be the one to answer the door to them. I feel that getting take away is such a guilty action, as though the delivery oik is playing out the most scornful thoughts as he stands in my doorway for a whole 20 seconds. I have only ever answered the door to take away once and generally it played out as the following:
Ding Dong
Me: Hello
Delivery Oik smiles, sais nothing but hands me the boxes of munch.
Delivery Oik’s thoughts: Oh, so you are able to walk outside of your living room to the doorway, but not to the kitchen then?!
Me: Horrible night isn’t it?
The delivery Oik smiles again and nods before requesting the payment.
Delivery Oik’s thoughts: Yes, it is a horrible night, but what would you know? I’m the one zipping around on a 50cc scooter in the rain. How horrible can your night be? You in your warm slippers, central heating and doctor who on the tv…
I hand over the money, avec tip, just in case, this peep show like activity is actually playing out in real life similarly to the storyline in my mind.
Me: Well Thank you very much, have a good evening.
Delivery Oik’s thoughts: What kind of stupid smug woman are you? Have a good night? I am bound to get a cold, and trench foot by the evenings end, that’s if I haven’t got it already. Oh yes, I#ll have a lovely night, delivering food to people like you to lazy to turn on an oven – AN OVEN, not even an open fire! How hard can it be? Oh I hope your food is cold (but not too cold, because I’ll get in trouble and then that means I’ll have to come back here again you cant-cook-complainer.
Delivery Oik replies ‘you too’, smiles and then walks back out into the rain and onto his soggy seated moped.
Yes. That is exactly how take away played out – and yes, I do feel insanely guilty. See, delivery oiks are the universe’s way of telling me ‘you could do better’ and the devil’s way of responding ‘Ahh, but is better really worth it, with cooking skills such as yours – after all , we all burn down here’.
I feel as though this entry should end with a poignant morale, but let’s face it – I can’t quite be bothered to 'do better'.
