Written the morning
after Thanksgiving…
In the past, I have mentioned our bodywork specialist whom I
call “The Horse Doctor” because he works three days a week on horses. In his less reputable days, Dean, formerly an
L.A. police officer who still teaches self-defense to LAPD “SWAT” teams, was an active gang member in whatever “mean
streets” exist in New Jersey.
When I once asked him how, with no formal training
whatsoever, he had learned his restorative bodywork techniques, Dean explained
that his process is simply the opposite
of the strategy he practiced during his gangbanging days. Now it’s “How can I fix that?” Then it was, “How can I cause that?”
Thanksgiving morning during my meditation, I decided to be
as helpful as I possibly could in preparation for the upcoming
festivities. Since, you know, nobody
believes they are deliberately unhelpful
– the way no one admits to deliberately evil –
“Am I deliberately evil?
I would say ‘No.’ I am good, with
inadvertently evil consequences.”
I thought I was always helpful at Thanksgiving. I served as the genial host entertaining the
company, while other people (primarily Dr. M and daughter Anna) did everything
else. It seemed like an equitable
division of labor. I am a really good
host.
Just in case, however, I decided to do more. And, in order to be helpful – which I
believed I already was and had therefore no distinct understanding as to what
to do differently – I decided, ala
Dean, to deconstruct my previous behavior and do exactly the opposite.
What results is a list entitled, “How Not To Be Helpful On
Thanksgiving.” Although I sincerely
believe… never mind. I am trying to be
constructive. (Along Those Lines: This list was prepared to alert me to doing
the opposite. If you think, however,
that you may have in the past been overly
helpful on Thanksgiving, this list can be a useful directive, offering practical suggestions for doing less. A list with
two purposes – That’s quite a list.)
Okay, here we go.
How Not To Be Helpful On Thanksgiving:
When asked to assist with some preparatory chore, always respond
in a tone suggesting that you would much rather watch football. Cooperation, I believe, requires total honesty. It is essential to know exactly who you’re
working with.
Take your time before beginning that assignment, in hopes
they will eventually forget they asked you and either do it themselves or find somebody else to do it, anyone, Lord knows, being
more capable handling virtually kitchen-related activity than I am.
I say, if you want something done right,
ask the best person available, not someone who just happens to be lying around,
watching football. Not being lazy. It’s just simple, common sense.
When nosing around the “Command Center”, offer a superior
alternative for accomplishing whatever task they are engaged in. Then casually wander away, knowing you have
saved precious time, upgrading their efficiency.
Express genuine concern about why everything’s taking so
long. And if you discover that a mistake
has been made – like the cranberries had to be redone because the original
batch was inedible – call them unmercifully on it, thus providing them the opportunity
to purge themselves of their guilt, allowing them, their consciences now clear,
to proceed unburdened to their other responsibilities.
Staving off subsequent embarrassment, wonder out loud if
they have prepared enough food. If they
are particularly low on, say, stuffing, scoop up a big handful of it before
heading away, thus requiring them, against their wishes, to prepare more.
Check out the carefully planned seating arrangement, enabling
a salvaging “Heads Up” to an impending catastrophe. (Wait.
How could anyone say that’s unhelpful?)
If numerous children are invited, bring up, as a cautionary
reminder, that one of them is believed to have head lice.
When asked to slip out to the supermarket for some forgotten
ingredient, always ask, “Do we really need that?” They will thank you when your services are
suddenly needed at home and you’re not off on some ridiculous wild goose chase.
Never be proactive in any way. Resist the impulse to spontaneously jump in, for
fear of throwing a monkey wrench into a highly functioning, well-oiled machine.
Monitor food smells emanating from the kitchen, averting the
telltale inclusion of cumin, which a lot of people don’t like.
When you see somebody struggling with a gigantic pot of
boiling water, go up and give that person a hug. Do not be deterred by their resistance. Some people are embarrassed by overt displays
of public affection.
At the “Toast of Appreciation”, begin the acknowledgements
by announcing that you yourself peeled two potatoes, adding facetiously that “Other
people helped too.” Your co-co-workers
will love it, playing along with the hilarity by pretending they don’t.
During after-dinner “cleanup”, stay completely out of the
way. Even moderate alcohol consumption can be imperiling to delicate
stemware.
If you turn out the lights in the kitchen while someone is
still doing the dishes, explain that you neglected to see them them because your
primary consideration was saving electricity.
Expect no thanks for your participation. Though, to spare their embarrassment
concerning that oversight – they’re exhausted and they forget things – casually
remind them of your essential contribution.
And there you have it.
Now all that’s required is to take this “List of Unhelpfulness” and
simply turn it on its head. Try it. Even if you believe you have been helpful all
along.
I did.
… And nobody noticed.
But you know what?
That’s fine.
Next year,
I’m going to be helpful again.
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