They said it couldn’t be done, but here I am: a man who had nothing nice to say and thus said nothing at all for 24 hours.
My challenges began early in the historic day, as my morning Uber driver arrived without any gum or lollipops to offer, forcing me to just sit there in the backseat like an ass. Fortunately, it does not count as “saying something” to give a one-star Uber rating (in my defense, he also gave me a weird look in the rearview mirror when I laid down to rest my eyes).
My next test in moral strength came in the form of an employee at Starbucks, who not only didn’t acknowledge when the credit card machine failed to register my initial card swipe (and forced me to try again), but also spelled my name “Ruan” on my cup. Ruan? Am I in hell? I looked at my watch and it was exactly what I expected: amateur hour.
Yet, like a saint who has horrible things to say constantly swirling around in his head, I spoke not a word, and even blessed the young barista. And looking back, if I had said anything, it would have been simply, “Do I ever come down to where you work and spell your name like a goddamn turkey?”
Later, when I finally arrived at my place of employment, I was confronted by my manager (the grand sachem of nudniks) for being six hours late. He huffed and he puffed but I maintained my utter professionalism and didn’t say anything that could be construed as “not nice” (I did roll my eyes). If everyone was as restrained and forgiving as me, I pondered later as I turned in my uniform, we might just have world peace.
But my noble suffering did not end there, my friends.
As I was walking home from the long, arduous day (Uber wasn’t biting – ungrateful Philistines), this guy suddenly popped out of a building and started walking at the exact same pace as me on the sidewalk. Before I knew it, we were walking side-by-side like a pair of morons. Can you fathom the nerve? It was a full four minutes before I gave up and let him go ahead (we’d probably still be walking if I hadn’t taken the moral high ground). Who does he think he is? I wish he was an ant so I could crush him!! I whispered this very quietly, which does not count as saying it.
Somehow, some way, I arrived home unscathed – a champion of self-control and forgiveness. It certainly was not easy (my foot also got wet), but the taste of true self-improvement was a sweet one.
What was the worst part of the experience, though, you ask? Well, let’s just say that my lips are sealed.
But all of it. All of it was the worst. Every single part.