Wow. The killer of threads strikes again.
I’ll help keep it alive. 
(I still feel shitty about this, so it will be good to vent.)
Two years ago, I was living in Boston (Brookline, to be exact). On this winter’s day, there was a ton of snow on the ground. In the commercial area of my neighborhood, shop-owners had shoveled the sidewalks just wide enough for one person to walk, and there were shoulder-high piles of snow on either side of the pathway. Two people passing on the sidewalk had to do a funny little dance with one person leaning far back onto the snow pile to let the other person by.
So I’m walking down the street and in front of me, three people (2 guys and a girl, late 20s/early 30s) have stopped to chat in the middle of this pathway. As I approach, I say “excuse me,” and they don’t stop talking. I get nearer, say, “Excuse me!” in a more pointed way, they keep talking.
So I just plowed right through them. I knocked the girl off balance, although she didn’t fall. They all got understandably mad and yelled at me for being a rude bitch, but I kept walking without acknowledging them. My thoughts at the time were, “Fuck them, they should have known better than to block the sidewalk like that.”
Approximately 10 seconds later, this huge wave of guilt overtook me. No, what I should have known better than to do was be such an asshole. I could have simply stopped in my tracks and said, “Excuse me, could you let me by? Thanks!” like a civilized person. Why didn’t I do that, why?
I felt horrible about it for a few weeks. Every time I’d think about it, I’d feel sick and have to shake my head and think of something else quickly before I started to cry. I just felt so bad for behaving like that. I’m not normally a person who acts like that – I try very hard always to be polite and decent to people.
And this is mainly why I keep to my moral code so strictly – because I feel like total shit when I violate it.
Here, Satchmo, I’ll help salvage your rep for you this time too.
When I was around 12, I had been alone, babysitting my siblings for two days straight (really dysfunctional family), and sometime on that last day, I slapped my younger brother in the face for being a rotten brat.
It is the only time I have ever struck anyone or anything in anger. I thought I would die from the shame of it. We both ended up on the floor crying, and swore never to tell my mother it happened.
I know it sounds pathetic, but it really is one of the only incidents in my life that I truly, totally regret.
This. It’s my moral code. It is a big part of my outlook on life. Do I occasionally do something stupid and dance along the fringes? Sure. But I don’t go over the line.
(Maybe I should.)
I got the wrong change from a grocery a few months ago. A few bucks off. Nothing big.
In the past I’ve tried returning and giving back the money. It didn’t go well. They had to call a manager, I had to recount the money and show their mistake several times. They seemed pissed because it screwed up their cash register. I even wondered if they bothered putting the money back in the register after I left.
If they don’t give a shit then why should I?
So, I didn’t go back in this time and give them back a couple bucks. It bothered me but what the hell. There’s been times they’ve shorted me too and I didn’t try to get my money back. It’s just not worth 30 minutes of my time to fight that battle.
I still think of Lincoln walking miles to return a few cents. Shmuck! 
Nobody else is admitting anything awful, so I’ll just say I’ve done two things in my lifetime which I consider truly despicable.
Five years ago this month a friend of mine died.
I have always told myself that failing to help someone, if I was able to, is a failure on my part and a big black mark on my karma scorecard. But this time, I failed him.
He was 33, working as a dishwasher in the same nursing home where I was a caregiver. He had been sorta-sick with something vague for a while, and finally took a week off to recuperate. A week goes by, doesn’t came back to work. The boss won’t say ways going on.
Now, this guy lived with his mom, stepddad, brother, and assorted nieces/nephews in a mobile home in a trailer park. He did this so that he could basically give his paychecks to his folks and help support them (it may be more accurate to say the rest of the family lived with him, since he was the one working full time and paying the bills).
So nobody knew why he wasn’t at work. Finally his mom came onto the facility one day and said he had been diagnosed with lung cancer, and was being treated for it in Portland. Talk about a shock.
So this facility had a policy that the facility itself was not to organize charitable events, but the boss took me aside and asked if I would volunteer to spearhead an effort to raise some money to help his family. I jumped on board with relish. I called a local bank to get a donation account set up and was told I needed to bring one of his family members in to set up. Great, it could be done. I called the local newspaper and talked to a managing editor of some sort, who liked what we were doing and told me that if we could set up some sort of big fundraising event, they would put it in the paper. Cool! And then, unbeknownst to me, one of the residents of the facility called her son-in-law, who was a dj at the local radio station. This guy actually called me, out of the blue, and told me that he would spend a couple of days on his morning show plugging our event once we get the details worked out. Way cool!
So what did I do?
Nothing. Or, at least, not enough. I tried to find local bands that would do a charity concert, nobody would play for free. Called local churches to see if we could hold a car wash or bake sale to raise a few bucks. Denied. I worked on this for a while, and then just sorta gave up, instead of plowing through and finding ways around these obstacles. I mean, I doubt I could of gotten more advertising than what was already offered, I just couldn’t find ways to do a fundraiser. So I gave up. Johnny died that fall in his home, alone, his family burdened with debt.
And to top it off, the day of his funeral, that night my wife took a pregnancy test and found out she was pregnant. That has to be a message, but darned if I know what.
My philosophy on life is that grown-ups can take care of themselves, children and animals can’t. If you maliciously hurt a child or animal then you are the lowest life form.
Many years ago in what I call my “previous life” I was 17 years old and living with my then-boyfriend. I was the only one working while he sat around with his friends playing guitar and smoking pot, you know how it is. Well one night he brought home a stray little black kitten. We already had a cat and were poor as churchmice and I was furious that he brought home another mouth to feed, more vet bills, etc. One day I was in the kitchen doing something like putting groceries away and I was all stressed out (no money, little food, boyfriend treated me like crap all the time), and the black kitten was on the table meowing and meowing at me - she was hungry or wanted attention or something - and I lost it. I backhanded her and yelled “SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!” … and IMMEDIATELY felt horrible. I didn’t hurt her, but the look on her face was like “WTF was that for?”
All I could think was “What if that was my child.” I burst into tears, picked up the kitten and gave her hugs and kisses and said “I’m sorry I’m sorry” over and over. She forgave me of course and when I packed up and left that guy I took both cats with me and this one lived a wonderful life with me until she passed away at 16 years old.
But that was when I realized how lucky I am that I have chosen to never have children. That outburst of stress-induced anger scared the hell out of me.
i work for a payday loan company…that just says it all. I need the job so I follow policy and procedures but I tell you…I feel I have a black stain on my soul :eek:
I’m generally a nice guy. I don’t bother folks. I’m a rules and law-abiding kind of guy. It’s been years since I pointed out someone’s shitty parking or bad behavior to them.
As I approached my office last week, I passed the Loser Lounge - that special area designated for the building’s smokers, just as some asshat threw his cigarette butt on the ground at my feet.
He’s sitting at a table, texting on his phone, 12 inches from a freaking ashtray!
I called him a couple of vile names, and explained in detail the violent things that would soon occur if he did not pick up said butt and dispose of it properly.
He did so, and I went on my way.
I don’t know what got in to me, but that’s not my normal reaction. Temporary insanity, I suppose!
It’s been quite some time. I had permission to use my ex’s computer after a breakup, I was feeling **very **wronged, and he hadn’t set a master pass. And we were both in the room, I didn’t write anything down at all. I just looked, and remembered. I have a very good memory.
I didn’t use the information for anything terribly dastardly, and I don’t regret it. I wouldn’t do it again now that I am more mature about relationships.
I dunno if this is a felony. meh, I’m not too worried about it. People call Doctor Drew or write to Dear Whoever and admit to snooping on their significant others all the time, and they don’t get in any trouble.