Once a Teacher’s Pet, Always a Teacher’s Pet
7 January 2010
So here’s the really horrible self-discovery I had this week:
On Tuesday, I had a doctor’s appointment. It was at 11, and I decided that I could squeeze in a meeting at 10 before I headed over there. (My judgment was likely hampered by the really cool phone I would be getting out of said meeting.)
Well, getting my phone took a lot longer than I thought. By the time I left there, it was 11:10, and I hadn’t been able to call the doctor’s office to tell them I was running late. (The guy had both my new phone and my old phone in the back for about twenty minutes.)
I called as I left and explained that I was running late, but would my doctor still be able to see me? The very sweet receptionist tracked down my doctor, who said she still had time for me.
I thought I could make it to the office by 11:30, but I didn’t factor in how long it would take to wind out of the Sprint Headquarters parking garage, or that I wouldn’t find a parking spot right away at the hospital, or that the roads still have some snow on them.
I arrived around 11:40. I apologized to basically everyone I saw, and I wanted to apologize to the entire waiting room because I knew whomever’s appointment was at 11:45, they wouldn’t be getting in on time. And it was all my fault.
The only one who seemed even slightly irked was my doctor’s nurse, but I’m already convinced that she doesn’t like me. (Insert my husband rolling his eyes here.)
I walked out of the office at 11:55. Seriously. That’s how short my stay was there, and part of it was sitting on the butcher paper waiting for my doctor to come in. As I scheduled my appointment for next month (Ah, pregnancy…), I overheard my doctor telling the receptionist that the 11:45 patient was her last one before lunch, and to please let her know when she arrived. I take this to mean that this lady was also late, and that I really hadn’t slowed things down as much as I originally feared.
But did this stop me from feeling guilty for the rest of the day? No. When my husband pointed out that I’ve been early for every appointment, that I’ve often sat in that waiting room for 30 to 45 minutes past my scheduled time, did that take away my guilt? Of course not.
I’ve always been a goody-goody. A rule follower. A people pleaser. In school, I wanted my teachers to like me. As an adult, I want my doctor and hairdresser and mail carrier to like me. Sometimes I think I’ve made strides with this flaw—my irrational desire for acceptance—and then Tuesday happens, and it’s obvious that I’m not nearly as far along as I’d like to be.
Sigh. Off to figure out how to stop caring what people think.
Comments
My mother-in-law privately sent me something that I wanted to post. “I know that at it’s core, the solution is in seeking God’s approval and not that of others … but we are so drawn to the tangible. The whole dilemma is also complicated by the importance of putting the needs of others ahead of our own (2nd greatest command/Paul in Phil 2 type of thinking) —- all of which will please others and thus, give us feedback on how well we’re doing that.”
Posted by Stephanie on 7 January 2010
I rolled my eyes more than once reading this post. :)
And I don’t think they like to call it “butcher paper” at the doctor’s office.
Posted by Ben on 7 January 2010
(Giggling about Ben’s comment on butcher paper. I had the same thought.
And one of the ways to let go of some of that guilt is to turn 40. You realize that life is way too short to spend angsting about that kind of stuff. I don’t try to tick people off or be insensitive, but I’m getting better about cutting myself some slack when things don’t go according to plan.
And I try to cut other people the same slack.
Posted by Erica Vetsch on 8 January 2010
I don’t think you can stop caring what people think—then you’d turn into one of those thoughtless people that run roughshod over the world. So I think you’re doing pretty well—you care, and it bothers you when a negative opinion might come your way, but the trick is not to get so hung up on it that it upsets you forever.
You’re doing better—it may have affected a day, but not the whole month. =)
Posted by Roseanna White on 7 January 2010