Asking for Directions
December 18th 2011 21:00
Fred is always having a go at me for my unwillingness to help people. The reason why I don’t is because I almost always feel ambushed whenever someone approaches me which then makes me want to flee from the scene. I mean, literally. Secondly is the sense of entitlement these people have, as if I’m some sort of information desk. And if I do try to help them, sometimes I will get someone who doesn’t want to take my advice which then leads me to wonder why ask for my help in the first place?
“It’s like the time this tourist approached me at Woolloomooloo to ask me where the Opera House was,” I said to Fred. “He kept insisting he had to keep walking away from Woolloomooloo. I was trying to explain to him that by doing that, he was actually heading away from the city, towards Potts Point. But he kept insisting he was right so I walked off. I had just finished work and just wanted to get home and didn’t want to deal with other people, especially a tourist who thinks he knows where the Opera House is. If he did, then why ask me?”
“You would think that being a tourist, he would know that a local would have better knowledge,” said Fred.
“Exactly. And there was another time when this tourist asked me how to get to Circular Quay. I gave him directions but he got fed up and decided to grab a cab. I then told him the cab was heading in the wrong direction and would have to double back and he didn’t want to know about it so again, I walked off. I was trying to save him money. Again, if he didn’t want to know, why ask me?”
“I get that all the time but I try to do my bit of good, hoping that eventually I will encounter someone who is grateful for my help.”
Hmph. If my beloved Butterscotch could speak English or, conversely, find a human who could speak Felinese, he would ask them how to get to Taylor Square when he went missing for almost a week. Then he could have been reunited with Brett and Gingersnap. Instead, my poor husband had to survive by stealing another cat’s food. Luckily the enemy cat’s parent had recognised him from a missing cat poster and rang Brett to tell him she had his baby.
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