Injured, Inconsiderate, The One Percent
I have torn the meniscus of my left knee. I have a super cool walking stick. The pain is getting somewhat better but I probably need to have surgery. I am hobbling bravely, but anyone who sees me can tell that I am not having fun.
Last week, as I was struggling to get into a taxi in New York, I noticed a very large congregation leaving a nearby church. It is a Thursday morning so this is clearly a funeral or a memorial service of some kind. The crowd is primarily Wall Street banker types. I wondered who died and considered how many of these very well dressed white males mindfully mourned the dead. How many of them spent the time in the church sending texts, reading email, and working on “deals?” How many of them were already working to get the deceased’s clients? I have an expansive imagination!
I hobbled into a cab with my cane, barely able to maneuver. I was just about to close the door when three of those Wall Street types grabbed the doors and insisted that I get out of the cab. Apparently, they had seen the available cab from a block away but didn’t notice that I had been struggling to fit my bad leg into the small back seat. The driver hadn’t turned off the “”available” light since we hadn’t started to move.
My banker friends were not really interested in any of the details of my securing “their” cab. They had little concern for my pain and suffering. They had to get to where bankers go to “do deals.”
This “type” is just so so so ……. I can’t think of a kind word. It makes me want to join the ranks of those who find all “bankers” despicable. Of course I do not agree with such generalizations but the longer I am away from this industry, the greater understanding I have for the perspective of the many people who are not in that “1%.”
I remind myself daily and am grateful for the generous benefits I received from my many years in that industry. I also ponder whether my colleagues and I ever acted with at a total lack of compassion for others. I have known some individuals who lacked all basic common courtesy and compassion for people, but the majority of the people I knew where pretty damn good.
There are so many messages in this experience. If I wrote all my thoughts, this blog post would become Book #2. So my simple message is don’t get self absorbed, be mindfully compassionate toward others, and please don’t text during funerals.
Son of a Postman
Available now on Amazon in Paper and Kindle formats!