When you hold the door for one person, but get stuck holding it for everyone else.

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When I was a little boy, my parents instilled in me an almost psychotic dedication to courtesy. They insisted that no matter the situation, I should always aspire to be a gentlemen. As a result I am a priggish dandy, compelled beyond his will to hold every door I see, and bless even the mousiest of sneezes.

The other day, while heading out to get lunch, I held the door for a rather wobbly older woman. As she turned to thank me, she was engulfed within a stream of strangers – opportunistic parasites, all – who flooded brusquely through the door, and toward the rest of their day. No one even looked at my direction, let alone said thank you.

The old woman, was never seen again.

And here’s the thing: I held the door anyway.

And this produces the most interesting irony. My dogmatic dedication to courtesy has been instrumental in the development of a lodged and bitter dislike of people. Because this has happened a ton of times. This wasn’t a one-off. I’ve lost dozens of old ladies to this behavior. DOZENS. I can’t bear to lose one more…

Do you do this? When you see some poor schmuck hold the door for someone, do you actually drop your shoulder and charge through like a runningback? Because if you do: I mean this… you might be evil. I don’t even really believe in evil. But if you turn someone’s kind gesture of common, courteous humanity into an opportunity to… what… not open a door? You’re a goddamn monster and should be studied by scientists.

Because the thing is – it’s not just rude or thoughtless. It actually turns the kind gesture onto itself. Because you tried to hold that door for someone to be nice. But now that you’re stuck standing there like a putz… spending down your seconds on this planet to help the moral gutter trash of society… you have to run the most brutal calculus in your head and figure out which person you’ll stop holding it for. Have you ever done this? Have you seen the shock on their face? The look of abject betrayal in their eyes? Like you just stabbed them in the fucking heart. And everyone around you assumes the worst of you? That you stopped holding it for them because of some random, unimportant difference? Race. Gender. Haircut. Hat. Nose shape. Maybe you’re not as neurotic as I am (more’s the pity; I’m a fucking delight), but these are the things I worry about every single time I let go of that handle.

Do you see? Do you see? DO YOU SEE WHAT YOU HAVE WROUGHT UPON THIS EARTH?

We should bring back dueling…