I am a jackass. I have witnesses. They will corroborate my testimony. They thought they were going to be shot at, too.
No one likes to be wrong. But what is worse than being wrong is having to admit it. And apologize. I found myself in exactly those circumstances today. It still pains me to think of the grievous errors in judgement I made. They were legion. And they were all my own.
I own some land in a neighboring county. I was up there earlier in the day to show a potential buyer the property. A couple of other men were meeting us there to discuss matters of preparing the land for a homesite. Firstly, let me say there have been some errors and assumptions made by myself and others as to exactly where the easement allowing access onto my property lies. Just trust me, it is confusing for a couple of reasons not worth going into at the moment. But let it suffice to say that a lot of people have been driving and parking in a nice old lady's front yard thinking it was said easement. Including myself.
Today was no exception. Well, today, she was exceptionally vocal about making it known that we should not have been there. I generally do not respond well to being yelled at by an old woman flapping her arms and threatening to call the sheriff on me. Especially when I am confident that I am on a legal road and visiting my own land. I tried to be direct, succinct and a bit rude as well as I informed her that I was not parking in her yard. Clearly I was on a graded section of road. And proceeded to escort my companions to the property to discuss the business at hand.
Well, in the course of our dealings, new pins were discovered. New insights were gained. The old woman was indeed correct. We were parking in her front yard. Land plats and surveyors are fallible, (and/or lazy). And I realized that I was a jackass. Of prodigious proportions. I owed a tremendous apology to her. And I would have...if it were not for the enormous quantity of righteous indignation stuffed into a XXXXL track suit leaning against my truck. How such a tiny old lady could have spawned such a gigantic son is still beyond me. Though he turned out to be as pleasant and agreeable as he was large, there was no question of his intolerance of what he believed was a disrespecting of his mama. The situation was resolved without any violence nor brandishing of weapons as had been feared by concerned parties. Though I was unable to directly apologize to his mama, as her nerves were already wrecked, she did relay, via cell phone from in the house twenty feet behind us, exactly what she thought of the whole matter.
As I drove home, I couldn't help but think of all little errors and miscommunications that compounded to form an avalanche of inexcusable rudeness. I believe I should present her with a fruit basket and a personal apology very soon.
I can say that, though it was painful to experience, when confronted with my glaring error, accepting that I was indeed in the wrong felt good. I still felt like a total and utter jackass. But I knew that I had won an important victory: the one over my pride. I think if we could rise to the defense of the truly injured party rather that to that of our ego and pride, we would be better for it. Maybe the world would be just that much better, too.
But I still owe her a fruit basket. My wife has made it crystal clear that I'm not getting out of that one.
Don't be a jackass.
Semper Fi
No comments:
Post a Comment