Comments (2) | Add a comment
Steven Kalas
STEVEN KALAS: Taking responsibility of our actions is a matter of being human
Tools
More Columns
Steven Kalas: Child should have been told in advance about marriage proposal
Self-knowledge brings self-understanding, self-acceptance and more
Culture of despair may be behind prurient violence in media
Give people strength to consider their troubled past
Hope can carry victims beyond pain to survival
Maybe I awakened some long-slumbering convenience store curse the day I selected a Coca-Cola from the refrigerator case, changed my mind in favor of a Mountain Dew, and arrogantly replaced the unwanted Coca-Cola bottle in the bin containing Monster Energy drink. All I know is that, since then, I have been involved in not one but two fender benders in this very parking lot. What are the odds?
The first one involved me and young Bif. (I'll call him "Bif" to protect his privacy.) Bif was driving this gigantic lunk of an aircraft carrier disguised as a car. He was in the driver's seat of the USS Brigadier Bif when I pulled in, parked to his immediate right, got out of my car and went in to get a Coca-Cola.
When I came out, Bif was on the sidewalk staring at the way his car's right front fender had regrettably docked with my driver's side door. Apparently Bif had decided to leave but had neglected to look to his right and notice that a car was parked there. Specifically, my car.
Now, the thing is, this parking lot is considered private property. So, technically, Bif is not guilty of a moving violation. I could call for a police officer, but all the officer would do is pull up and say to me: "Wow. Bummer."
Insurance? "Uh, no, not exactly," Bif says, squirming. "But here's my ID." The ID had no photo. It was some crumpled paper with his name on it. Or somebody's name. He gave me his phone number. More accurately, he recited a phone number. Might or might not have been his phone number. Sure enough, Bif vanished. Bif screwed me.
Bif, if you're reading this, you owe me $800 cash. I'm sure you'll do the right thing.
Fast forward several months to this morning. Same store. On my way to work, I pull into the Brigadier Bif Memorial Parking Bin. Go-go-go. Head scattered, which is kinda redundant if it's the life of Steven Kalas you're observing. Cutting things close, timewise, but I'm in dire need of antacids to neutralize the bride and groom of Coffee and No Breakfast, whose nuptials took place about 30 minutes ago in my stomach.
I park. I pull the hand brake. Into the store. I'm paying for Tums when the door opens and Maggie comes in, asking aloud who owns the black Honda CRV. (I'll call her "Maggie" to protect her privacy.)
Apparently I neglected that last little pull, tug and distinctive "click" on that hand break I mentioned earlier. After I left the scene, my CRV decided to go exploring the parking lot. Backward. The foray came to a quick and sudden halt when the spare tire on the back of my car regrettably docked with Maggie's driver side front panel.
Maggie took offense at these events.
Insurance? "Yes," I say, but then, wouldn't you know it, I can't find my insurance card. I give her my business card. I show her my driver's license. The strained expression on her face screams the nonverbal that I'm a lying sack of equine apples.
And that's what breaks my heart. It's bad enough that this nice woman has to be maddeningly inconvenienced with insurance adjusters and appointments at the auto body shop. Bad enough that I was egregiously inattentive and ruined her otherwise terrific morning. But it kills me that she is steeling herself to be screwed. Just kills me.
I think of Bif. "OK, Bif," I think. "Let me show you how it's done."
"Look me in the eye," I insist to Maggie. "This was my fault, and I'll be responsible for it. I will call you within the hour."
And I do call. And you can hear the relief in Maggie's voice. And perhaps she hears the relief in my voice, when I hear the relief in hers.
I'm really, really sorry, Maggie. I was careless. I can only be grateful that my mistake did not intersect an unwitting mother or father pushing a stroller. Or a toddler wandering across the parking lot. I know that doesn't make it any less annoying and inconvenient for you. But, still.
People make choices. Choices have consequences. Consequences are real. Some of the consequences are rather nasty. There is no negotiating with this: If it matters to be human, then it matters that we take radical responsibility for all of the consequences of all of our choices, even the consequences we neither expected nor intended.
Perhaps it fell to me to redeem Bif.
Steven Kalas is a behavioral health consultant and counselor at Las Vegas Psychiatry and the author of "Human Matters: Wise and Witty Counsel on Relationships, Parenting, Grief and Doing the Right Thing" (Stephens Press). His columns appear on Sundays. in the Las Vegas Review-Journal. Contact him at 227-4165 or skalas@reviewjournal.com.
Trending topics:
Comments
Terms & Conditions
The following comments are provided by readers and are the sole responsiblity of the authors. The Review-Journal does not review comments before publication nor guarantee their accuracy. By publishing a comment here you agree to abide by the comment policy. If you see a comment that violates the policy, please use the Report Abuse button.
Some comments may not display immediately due to an automatic filter. These comments will be reviewed within 24 hours. Please do not submit a comment more than once.
Note: Comments made by reporters and editors of the Las Vegas Review-Journal are presented with a yellow background.
RSS
Twitter
Facebook
Hi Gary! Thank you for your encouragement of my writing. I'm glad it was meaningful to you. The sentiment is meaningful to me, for sure. All the best!
Excellent article- absolutely on the point! The last paragraph is especially true and should be allowed to be a part of the Pledge of Allegiance! Yes, you redeemed “Bif”, but you also redeemed a wary and weary person’s faith in what it means to be totally and fully human. Actually a great gift – one she will not soon, if ever.
I also had a similar experience some months ago with a young single mom who nosed her car into the right lane of travel, thinking that my blinking turn signal was an indication I was turning. I was not. We slightly collided; she was more of wreck than the cars. I did what I could to comfort and reassure her. Our cars were towed – but I called her two days later to inquire to how she was doing. She was surprised and I could tell a little amazed. I informed her that these things happen, we are both uninjured and the cars will be fixed. All in all – it was going to be okay – and in fact- it already is. Yes, it was her fault, but I chose to respond differently than what she expected. I chose to be more fully human. I realized that supporting anger and blame for what happened was unproductive and unnecessary. I also found that in my response I felt much better myself. I acknowledged and accepted more of who I am. That was a gift as well. – a gift to me!
I find your words so well crafted that I plan to include it on my schools website and in our tutoring room at Beacon Academy here in Las Vegas. That last paragraph is fifty-four words and takes seven seconds to read. It conveys a reality I want all my students to know and my staff (and myself) to remember… that not only being fully human matters – it matters to know it! Thanks.