They say that patience is a virtue. Maybe that’s why no one’s ever called me a virtuous woman. (It might not be the only reason, but for the purposes of this column… )
Patience? I just don’t have time for that! (See what I did there?)
From when I was a child – willing my birthday or Christmas to hurry up and arrive, or running ahead of my family and subsequently getting lost in airports – I have never been the type to sit back, relax, and allow events to unfold in their own time.
Impatience can mean ‘quickly irritated or provoked’ – and that’s certainly true of me too – but in many cases, I’ll go with the ‘restlessly eager’ definition.
This last weekend was a prime example. Ever since December, when I reckoned I was Usain Bolt and decided to sprint down the lane outside my house, my left knee has been protesting my stupidity. I didn’t break anything, but it has certainly needed rest and time to heal.
On Friday night at a Cayman Cookout soiree, complete with DJ, I figured I would show some of those young kids my J.Lo moves. My knee was begging for some restraint, but the music was calling me. In high-heeled boots, I jumped, bounced, boogied, popped and locked my way through song after song. I was feeling no pain.
The next morning was a different story. I don’t know how J.Lo walks to the toilet after a hard night of dancing, but I bet she doesn’t hop-and-drag her leg across the floor, ‘ooch’-ing and ‘ouch’-ing as she goes.
If I’d just been patient and allowed my knee to properly recover from December’s indiscretion, I could have been tripping the light fantastic by February with no painful repercussions.
I also get ‘restlessly eager’ about revealing surprises. In 2016, Barbra Streisand embarked on her umpteenth farewell tour. My whole family loves her, so just in case this really was her final kick at the can, I made a plan to treat my mother and me to tickets to New York and Babs’ show in Brooklyn.
It was a surprise for Mum and she wasn’t going to realise why we were there until we pulled up to the stadium in a taxi.
Actually, maybe I would tell her as we left the hotel.
Perhaps she would need to pick out an outfit, so I’d better reveal all when we checked in.
The justifications kept coming, and in the end, I only managed to hold out until we were sitting on the Cayman Airways jet, not even pulling away from the parking blocks at Owen Roberts.
Same thing when I got flights to LA and tickets to see Keanu Reeves’ mediocre band Dogstar performing at The House of Blues. Best friend Lynne loved her Keanu, and this was probably the only opportunity she’d have to get up close to him.
After everything was bought and confirmed, I told her I had to go to LA on business for a long weekend and did she want to come along?
My plan was to tell her only on the day of the concert, but I didn’t last 24 hours after she said she could get the time off work. Hopeless.
Being the impatient sort isn’t always a bad thing. For example, the squeaky wheel gets the grease, as the saying goes. If you’re a personal assistant and need to get answers for your boss right away, not being willing to wait for a third party to get back to you when it’s convenient for them is the key. Patiently sitting and waiting for that person to return your call is not always the quickest way to get results.
That can also apply to when you’re a customer wanting answers from a store or service provider. I would say that’s when the ‘quickly irritated and provoked’ side of me kicks in.
I hate to say it, but the majority of the time I leave a message at any business, I never expect to hear a word back and I am rarely disappointed.
I once ran an experiment with a local bank, that shall remain nameless, lest it kick me and my hard-earned $236.75 off its books, where I called every single one of its branches and left a message at each because no one picked up the phone. I made a note of the date and time I left the messages.
That was three years ago and I’m still waiting, but in the meantime, I physically drove there and refused to leave until someone finally gave me some help and acknowledged that the phone system wasn’t up to snuff.
Here’s something ironic: How can a telecoms company, whose sole business is communications, never return a phone call?
One of my favourites was when I kept calling a home goods store and no one answered, so I went there, stood back from the customer service desk, called the number and watched them ignore the ringing before stepping forward and saying something.
If I’d exercised patience in any of the above situations, I’d be a person with no mortgage, no phone roaming plan and no toaster oven.
Of course, there are times when patience really is a virtue, and that would certainly be the case when it comes to romantic relationships.
You may find this surprising, but nothing cools a man’s interest quite like being asked on a first date where he sees this relationship heading in the future. I’ve done myself no favours in that regard.
If, like me, you suffer from the same malady, take my advice: When you feel the question rising up in your throat, shove a bun in your mouth and keep it there until the urge subsides.
If you don’t, that shop won’t be the only one not returning your calls.
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