The Guy at the Gas Station
At my usual gas station I find the same man working the register almost every time I’m there. He doesn’t smile or offer pleasantries, even when I do. He doesn’t speak much, and when he does he mumbles indecipherably and appears generally disinterested in interacting with me.
I have all the freedom in the world to make up any story for why I believe he behaves this way.
It could be a language barrier. It could be that he’s “rude” and dislikes people. It could be that he’s neurodivergent and doesn’t do small talk. Shy and awkward. Maybe he hates black women. Or hates me, specifically.
I could make up any story but no matter which one I think of, the truth is I can’t know. And even if I were to pretend I know, I‘d simply find myself wondering, “and what does that have to do with me?”
Every answer I could think of is about him and his possible dispositions, biases or preferences, and has nothing to do with me.
I could go looking for something I do that someone somewhere would maybe judge me for if they had this specific setup of preferences, views etc. and apply it to him.
For what? It’s not my job to decide whether other people like me or not or figure out what to do about it. That’s their job. I have my own stuff to do today.
I learned many years ago to go by the golden rule of moments like this: assume their problem isn’t about you unless they explicitly say that it is. (And even then, you get to decide the level of responsibility you feel for how they feel about you.)
With all that being said, his demeanor hasn’t dictated a thing about how I act. I often smile. I say hi and make my requests with “please” and “thank you” attached. Usually I get an indecipherable mumble in return—and that’s okay with me. It’s not about me unless he indicates otherwise, directly.
This is old wisdom, called “minding your business”.
How I behave is my business. What I think is my business. His thoughts and behaviors are his business.
The Universe has a habit of affirming this arguably over-simplified line of reasoning for me, including a couple of weeks ago with the gas station guy directly.
I go in, pleasant as usual, and ask for two things:
- A green pack of American Spirits
- A lighter
As I’m rustling around to find my wallet I notice him patiently waiting for my attention, so I look up. He has the gentlest, faintest smile on his face as he says two words, very clearly, with a touch of warmth:
“Matching lighter 🙂”
He gestures to show me that the lighter he picked for me is the exact same color as the green box of American Spirits.
Pleasantly surprised, I smile and say thank you, and just like that his reach for our tiny connection is over. He goes right back to silent lol, and I don’t take it personally.
Our relationship has taken no step forward. Nothing has changed. And that’s okay. I take the gesture as him appreciating our quiet, nonjudgmental dynamic, where he gets to be him, and I get to be me.
And this affirms something for me:
I was right for not taking it personally. Not making assumptions or judging his behavior toward me as being about me, so much as a reflection of who he is.
And in the spirit of making up stories (because we so often do), my story is now that he’s just kind of like a cat. Strong boundaries, decides when he’s interested, and when he isn’t. And doesn’t like it when people come on too strong (hence him going right back to silence after I expressed surprise haha). And I can be cat-like too so I can ride with that.
So that’s our relationship now.
The morning of writing this, I went in, and as I said “thank you” on the way out he mumbled his barely audible “you’re welcome”, and I understood. And that’s okay. And I think he understands that, too.
And I think this mutual understanding is something we owe to not making assumptions or taking one another’s behavior too personally one way or the other.
Rooting for You,
Tori
P.S. I have a spot opening up for coaching on October 9th and spots are open for consults. Click the bookmark below to see if we’re a good fit.
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