Last week, I found myself running late to a dinner with friends I hadn’t seen in ages. As I navigated my way through traffic, I hit an unexpected toll booth. For those who enjoy the luxury of toll-free travels, let me set the scene: you’re cruising along, and then suddenly you must stop in the middle of the highway to hand over cash to a booth attendant. These toll booths are a common sight around here, and when you don’t have cash ready, you can feel the collective frustration of the cars piling up behind you as you frantically sign forms promising to pay later.
I’ve been on the receiving end of that situation a few times, and believe me, it’s mortifying. The heat rises, your heart races, and you can practically feel the judgment from the drivers waiting behind you. Trust me, no one leaves home hoping to ruin someone else’s day.
But somehow, in that moment last week, I forgot all of this. As I sat in my car, I grew increasingly impatient as the vehicle in front of me took what felt like an eternity to pay the toll. My frustration escalated to the point where I began banging my hands on the steering wheel and leaning back in exasperation. I even inched my car closer as if that would somehow make them move faster.
Spoiler alert: it didn’t. All it did was add to my irritation (and hunger).
In a moment of clarity, I glanced into my rearview mirror and was struck by the sight of a furious, impatient version of myself. I hated that image. Here I was, turning into the very jerk I often criticize, prioritizing my own needs over the reality that the person in front of me might be facing their own struggles.
As I simmered in my anger, I thought about the possibility that the driver ahead could be nervous or even a new driver, just like my teenage son. Maybe they were having a rough day or simply didn’t have enough cash on them. I recalled a time years ago when my son had a meltdown and scattered our change everywhere, while I was left scrambling to collect it, all while others honked in frustration.
That moment made me realize that my impatience was not just inconsiderate but hypocritical. I had good friends waiting for me who would understand if I was late. The dinner wouldn’t just get up and leave.
Finally, the car ahead moved along. When it was my turn, the toll worker informed me that the person in front had covered my fare due to the wait they caused. I felt a wave of shame wash over me.
In an effort to correct my behavior, I decided to pay for the car behind me as a small act of kindness. It reminded me that we all face challenges, and sometimes a little patience can go a long way. I must work continuously on being less self-centered, especially when I’m hungry or pressed for time.
So, next time you see me acting like an inconsiderate jerk, feel free to call me out on it.
If you’re interested in more insights about personal growth and empathy, check out some of our other posts like this one on home insemination or learn from experts at this authority on the topic. Also, for excellent resources regarding pregnancy and home insemination, visit ACOG.
In summary, I learned a valuable lesson about patience and empathy while stuck at a toll booth. My impatience not only affected my mood but also reminded me of the struggles others face. It was a humbling experience that taught me to be more considerate and reflect on my own experiences before reacting.