I know I should be nice. Respect the elderly. Help others. All of that stuff.
But when I am walking into my building, clearly juggling not one, not two, but four grocery bags, and my purse and a ringful of keys trying to wave the little fob thingy at the door thingy so I can get inside all while not dropping any of the aforementioned bags, there is no nice. There is no respect. There is no want to help, when an elderly woman, clear at the corner of the block sees me and calls out “Hold the door!” and with the speed of a molasses-covered snail shuffles her way over, while I stand there waiting, juggling, holding the door open with a foot, both hands being full. This woman has her purse in one hand, a single grocery bag in the other, and barely mutters a thank you as she pushes past me inside. On the outside I don’t even respond, because I am annoyed. On the inside I am seething, because I think this woman is being selfish. Because who does that? Who calls out, a half a block away, to someone clearly in need of getting to her apartment because she is about to collapse under the weight of groceries, to hold the door? Like I have all the time in the world to wait for her and hold the door for her. You know what, lady? Get your own goddamned door. I don’t care if you are old. I have milk that needs to be refrigerated, and I don’t have time for rude or demanding people.
Other than myself, of course.