I hate do-gooders, those exasperating interlopers!

You are in a hurry. You have to meet a very important client for lunch and he has told you in no uncertain terms that he likes people to be punctual. OK, got that.

So you are downtown, fighting traffic and trying to make it on time for your meeting. You are stuck behind a slowpoke who has taken roots at a stop sign. A gap suddenly opens in the pedestrian flow going through the crosswalk. All right, go!
Go! What are you waiting for? The do-gooder in front of me has spotted a little old lady who is hesitating to cross the street and he is encouraging her to do so. At my expense! Cool it granny, step back!

Hate those guys bent on doing good! Never mind the fact that I am going to lose a fifty thousand bucks sale, this guy has got to do his Boy Scout bit.

Sometimes I seem to be stalked by Do-gooders. They always seem to appear when I am under pressure. Like last week… I parked at a meter and rushed into a building to drop a document. I get into an elevator with another fellow. He punches his floor, I punch mine.

OK, let’s go! But No. The guy is holding the door for a pregnant woman! What business does a woman in family way have to come downtown? Why doesn’t she stay home with milk and cookies and save me another parking ticket?

I told you, I am stalked by do-gooders.

A few days ago, I was in line at the supermarket waiting to have my goods processed by the food checker. Suddenly an older woman with a strong Russian accent engaged in an argument with the checker. The food checker obviously doesn’t understand what the old woman is saying.
Houston, we have a problem!

Out of nowhere, a distinguished looking gentleman appears and starts translating for the Babushka. There is hope… But what’s that? The Russian expats are now engaged in a lively conversation and smiling. This exchange doesn’t have anything to do with business; it reeks of social intercourse. Damn the Do-gooders!

And I think that the blasted thing is catching.

Two days ago, I was driving downtown when I noticed a lost pooch. I know when a dog is in trouble. Without a second thought I stopped my car  and approached the mutt. The poor thing was shivering and looking very despondent. I managed to grab him and take him into my car. Don’t worry pooch, I’ll take care of you.

Somebody behind me started honking. Bastard! Don’t you have any heart?


PS: You can now view this page in French, Spanish, German and Russian. To do so, please click on the Translate sign located on the right side (bottom) of this post and choose the language that suits you best.
The translation by the way is far from being perfect!