Slack-cutting and the art of friendship

If you're here for the usual humorous post with the witty wrap up line, this isn't it. Don't say you weren't warned.


Today was a day of introspection. Not something I usually do, because seriously, if you know me at all you know nothing good can come of it.

Regardless, I was tossing over something my neighbor said: that he tries to treat everyone as if they have a broken heart. Okay, maybe a little Hallmark-y but I still found myself thinking about it weeks after he said it.

The truth is we could all stand to be nicer to each other. We could all be more considerate of each others feelings. We could all get over ourselves for a minute and put somebody else's needs first. Then maybe we could all lock arms, start swaying and sing freakin' Kumbaya.

Now, see that last sentence right there? That was my cynical side rearing its ugly head as it so often does. Not so much out of genuine skepticism, but more of a knee-jerk reaction to situations that make me somewhat uncomfortable and suspicious. Like, say, people being nice to each other for no apparent reason. I work in advertising agencies. I'm not used to that.

Unfortunately that same cynicism sometimes spills over into my friendships.

I know I'm a really good friend. But I also know I'm not an easy friend. I'm not high maintenance, but I do take a tough love approach to friendship. I don't suffer fools lightly, and I don't cut people nearly enough slack (just ask any of my former friends). For some reason, at some point I made the decision it was perfectly acceptable to expect their kindness, consideration and unconditional understanding in my weaker moments that I could only begrudgingly give them in theirs.

Maybe it comes from being an only child. Maybe it comes from the business I'm in. Maybe it comes from growing up on the mean streets of West L.A.(north of Wilshire).

I know this reads like I'm making amends here, which I'm not. Or that something big happened that set me down this course, which it didn't. Or that I want to pull a Sally Field and start screaming "You really like me!" which I don't. I was just thinking about what my neighbor said, and that maybe I could stand to be a little nicer overall. Make a character course correction. A deposit in the kharma bank.

I'm hoping this is the emotional equivalent of the truth about bad hair days: you see how bad your hair is, but no one else does. And no one else cares.

The lesson is probably as simple as treat others as you want to be treated. In fact I'm sure it is.

Still, every once in awhile as I'm on the outside looking in, I remind myself it's a lesson I need to keep learning.

Well, I see our hour is almost up. Don't worry, I promise the next post will be funnier.