Holding the door open for people means you have a 50% chance of walking away in a bad mood. Cause there is a 50% chance that an asshole or a Queen will take advantage of your courtesy. At Youngest’s school, the percentage jumps up to 75%. I know it’s a risk that I’m going to be mad at someone, but still, like a pig to mud, I just gotta hold that door open. I’ve come to terms with this. Accepting that I will do what is right not for the jerks and idiots, but for the 25% who appreciate the courtesy and will in turn extend it elsewhere. But sometimes… grrrrrr…
So today I need to meet someone in
He rushes in and down towards his class. I am still waiting for the Queen of England and her younger child to walk through. She is clearly a Queen because she languidly drawls out a “thanks” but doesn’t even look at me. She is now standing right in front of the doorway in such a way that if I let go of the door it would slam into her butt, which by its flatness looks like many doors have slammed in to it over the years. Her daughter stops and insists the Queen pick her up. The Queen shakes her head and says “No way I’m carrying you in! I might break a nail!” errr, ok – she didn’t actually say the nail part, but she did lift up her hands and shake them in such a way that I believe the message was the same. She then walks around her daughter and down the hallway, leaving the 3 year old standing right in front of the doorway. Keep in mind, I am still standing there, unable to let the door go on a little kid, even if such demon child has begun to shriek like a slew of fire engines racing to a 5 alarm fire.
Other parents creep in and out, guiltily thanking me for holding open the door, even as none of them offer to hold the door in my stead. I’m like Charon, the ferryman of the