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I admit he pushed my buttons, and I'm not proud of it. Hopefully, I'm getting better because I can, at least, acknowledge it. But when it happened, I wasn't happy.
Several years ago, I visited a local restaurant I frequented in my city. They hosted a fundraiser in which a portion of everyone's check was donated to help a local family with a serious medical need. I went to lend my support.
The place was packed—good news for the fundraiser, bad news for me. Shortly after I got my drink and ordered my food, I decided that I would take it to go. I went up to the bar to let the owner/manager know.
I said, "__________do you know if they put that food order in yet? When it's ready, I'll just take it to go." And that's when he copped the attitude. He told me in no uncertain terms that he was going as fast as he could and had put the order in as soon as I gave it to him. He angrily said, "I'm doing my best." He was frustrated and seemed to think I was pushing him to hurry my order along.
He came over and put the check down rather forcefully in front of me. I looked at him, and that's when something snapped inside me. I left the restaurant, vowing never to come back. Who did I make that vow to? Just about everyone who would listen to me via text or in person for the rest of the evening! Thankfully, I stopped myself short of taking the case to social media.
I'm supposed to know better. I understand psychology, grief, and human behavior. I know what makes people tick and what ticks them off. I speak and write about motivation and emotional intelligence. I'm a Pastor. And yet, still, it happened.
Why did this bother me so badly in the first place? I don't know. Maybe there is something from my past, some psychological hiccup, that causes my buttons to be pushed in situations like this one. But I woke up the following day with a different perspective, a gentle reminder of sorts. A truth that I forgot the night before. And it's this, "Everyone has a story."
Perhaps he had financial pressures. Maybe because he was busier than usual, that caused undue stress. Or perhaps something happened with one of his kids. The possibilities are endless. I know that when I began to realize there might be more to his story, my agitation immediately softened.
In retrospect, we all have those moments when we get irritated over something insignificant. But somehow, it pushes our buttons, and we instantly become angry, intolerant, and impatient. The challenge? To recognize when those buttons are being pushed as soon as it happens. And when it does, stop, take a deep breath, and remember, "Everyone has a story." There's more to what's happening at that moment than what we can see. It might just soften us right away and prevent the additional whirlwind from occurring.
For me, it's worth a try.