So there I was, sitting in my car in a parking garage today. A small group of old people were apparently walking behind my car, headed to the same place I’d just left. Out of nowhere, one of the little old ladies collapsed, and on the way down, she hit the back of my car with her head. Her friends tried to help her onto her foot.
Me being me, I had to jump out and help. Yeah, help myself check my car for damage. I yelled at her to watch where she’s going. One of the old men said, “thank for your compassion!” Compassion? Forget compassion! She could have dented my bumper or she could have damaged the paint!
I couldn’t have cared less about her. I care about the car, a car for which I pay a hefty monthly payment. I have every right to be concerned about my car’s well-being, not a little old lady who could have at least tried to avoid my car.
She basically ruined my entire afternoon with her antics. And no, I don’t care if she’s okay. All I cared about is my car, something far more precious to me than some old dingbat who can’t watch where she’s going!