Good vs. Evil

I had an errand to run at lunch today (which was Wednesday, not actually today). I walked out to my car to find that it had two dents in the front right fender. They were pretty high up, I'd guess about four feet ( I own an SUV, and I don't care what you think of that. ), so whatever hit my car was fairly large. And painted white. I'm thinking some kind of delivery truck. It's an odd location for the car to be hit there because the fenders are flares and it was on *top* of the flare, but there was no damage to the front or side. So it was hit roughly from above. I'm having a hard time picturing exactly what that vehicle must look like. I've considered it may have been some sort of other object, but nothing comes to mind that makes any sense.

Now, these days nothing really phases me anymore. At least not something as trivial as this. I walked up to my car on the right side, and noticed these dents as I approached. My first thought was, hey, looks like I got a dent. I got to the car and touched the dents and checked out the paint mark, and thought, hmm, guess I'll have to get these fixed. It was as if I was detached in a way. This is not unusual for me, I can't really say why. In my past I would be much more upset, it's going to cost money, the car is only 8 months old, who did this to me, etcetera. Sort of a worry complex I suppose, although I can't really say what that would be as far as some kind of clinical diagnosis. Now my response is, "yeah, whatever." It's just going to cost money. Just like everything else. I'm guessing over a hundred, to have the dents popped out and the paint buffed. I'm lucky that the dents aren't on any creases in the shape of the body panel, as that kind of damage is much harder to work with. Which in itself is funny, because that area of the car is heavy with body creases. Like I said, lucky.

The other day, I parked in the parking lot at work, the main lot which has pretty narrow parking spots. The lot fills fast these days and there were only a couple spots left, so I had to park between two cars in this compact spot. I am not complaining, I own a large vehicle, it's my lot and I deal with it. As I was negotiating the spot, I tapped the car to my right on it's driver side mirror. I got it just on it's edge, just right, and popped off the shell that covers it's innards. The glass was fine, nothing was broke. But as I checked out my handy work I noticed that in popping off the shell, I had broken off the tabs that hold it on. So I was unable to simply snap it back on. Dilemma.

I wrote down the license plate number and the type of car. I was bummed I'd have to pay for this thing. Of course it did kinda just go back on right? Even though it wasn't secure. Could be it just broke right? All of it's own accord. I went to my desk and the old "shirk responsibility" monster reared its head. Most people in the world would just shine it on. Not their problem right? No witnesses, no guilt. I pondered for a moment just forgetting the whole thing. And it sat there in my mind after that. Like a spot of mold. It just sat there. I had planted it. Just by thinking about not owning up to what I had done, no matter how small.

This is the way I'm made. I was given a large helping of guilt when I was constructed. But this time, it wasn't really that bad. I didn't lose concentration when working, there was no stress or knot in my stomach. And after working for a little bit, I actually forgot to send email out to see who the car belonged to.

But that moldy spot remained.

I had some lunch at my desk, went for a walk, and later, saw the paper with the license and make of the car sitting next to my keyboard. So I popped open my email and sent the mail off, requesting the owner call my extension. Usually when you see emails like this go out to the company, it's understood there was some sort getting together of automobile parts. Well, I was sure to say there was nothing wrong with the car, but still to call.

I got the call at the end of the day, and explained the situation to her. I told her to see about getting a replacement part and I would take care of it. She ended up taking it to her mechanic and he said he could actually repair the part, and that a replacement was $100. I was surprised that it could be repaired, but if he could repair it, and do it well, then I guess that was fine too. I told her to let me know which she chose and I would pay for it.

She sent me an email later the next day thanking me greatly for being honest, and telling me how nice it was for me to do that. It felt good. It was as if I had just won. I don't know what contest I was in, what game I was competing in, but I had won. I thought of several things to say in return, mostly just the modest, 'well it's the only right thing to do' or whatever, which is true, but... I just said 'My pleasure.' Because it was.

It seems to me somewhere along the line, being bad, being tough, insensitive, arrogant even, has become de rigeur for being cool and independent, a kind of high water mark of personal evolution. Not caring about another's plight showing just how gloriously self-possessed a person is.

Seems kind of empty to me. Like taking a delicious steak and cooking it so much that it's just hard and burnt. Not very tasty at all.

So my mistake turned into my pleasure. And an inconvenience to one person. But also served to reinforce her faith in people around her. I was surprised at how much she responded to my simple honesty. She said several times how nice it was that I contacted her. Doing to right thing shouldn't be a surprise. It shouldn't be such a rarity. I didn't really do anything except try to fix what I had broken, but it obviously brought out some deep example of how we treat each other day after day, and one simple nicety contrasted the grey cloud of normal human interaction. I was seriously unprepared for her ingratiating response. I didn't really deserve to be praised for breaking her car. It's actually quite humorous on the one hand... and deeply satisfying on the other.

So the day after that I walked out to my car to run some errands, and there were two dents in the front right fender. I thought, well I'll have to get these fixed. Looks like I'm paying for two cars to get repaired... Sometimes it actually *is* funny. I chuckled to myself then.