I'm doing some soul searching because this one was expensive.
I was rear-ended. Jack and I were waiting at a light and boom, we lurched and crashed. We were fine. I hopped out of the car, shaken, and looked at my bumper. "I'm so sorry," said a well-dressed guy who hopped out of the shiny black Mercedes behind me, "I was looking at my..." he trailed off. We're okay, I said, scanning the bumper. It just looks like a few scratches. His license plate was dented. Really, I said, I think it's just a little scratch. Don't worry about it.
He smiled. He thanked me. He apologized. He left.
I took the car in today and the damages total $4,095. I have to pay the $1,000 deductible and the insurance company covers the rest. I feel like such a fool for not getting his information, and I have to ask myself, why didn't I?
I think it's because I'm a people pleaser.
I can't help it, but I have a need to be liked, to be easy-going, to get along. I've had it for a long time. In fact, my mom just gave me some old journals and in eighth grade, I wrote "I want to be popular" over and over again. Sometimes I find it hard to outgrow that feeling, even though I'm not really attracted to friendships with the alpha girls. I can still spot them in the preschool pick-up, the PTO, the spin class. I hate to take it back to eighth grade but it happens. Growing up, I was not the most popular girl by any stretch, but I had certainly had friends, of both sexes (my other journal theme). There's a part of me that wants to fit in, but really, I'm also so much more comfortable a little on the edge. My friend Sam once said that she thought our group of friends found each other because we were all a little outside the mold of our preppy midwestern college. I took that as a compliment, but I also worried that too much of my weirdness was showing.
Oh, the $5? A rude cashier over-charged me. I sort of thought so, but I doubted myself instead of her, and just took her word for it.
It's exhausting, and expensive.