By I will tell you a little secret. A long time ago I discovered a tiny trick for dealing with impatience (on my part). It is not a cure. It does help me to be a little more patient more times than you would expect.
It goes back to when I worked in the machine shops with my Dad. On the way home he would stop at a bar and go in for a ‘quickie’. I was too young to go with him, so I was confined to the car, where I soon learned that a ‘quickie’ depended upon your perspective.
The stops became the norm. A smart kid would have thrown a good book in the back seat, and spent the time pleasantly. Me? I sat there like an irritable lump, watching patrons happily come and go.
I did try a little ‘quickie’ business myself, in the form of getting out of the car and sneaking out of sight of the bar windows, where I would smoke a cigarette. That was short-lived. Turns out the patrons reported that some kid was loitering in the parking lot, smoking. Dad had an idea who that kid was.
So, I sat and fumed impotently. It was during one of these involuntary meditations that I discovered the ‘count to thirty’ method of temporarily relieving impatience. I used it after what I thought was a normal amount of absence for my Father. I’d count to thirty, expecting him to show. Granted, I sometimes did it several times, but it did help.
Now, several decades later, I still use it while sitting and waiting in the car. Gramma and I are not 100% compatible when it comes to departure times. I invariably, stubbornly, head to the car while she is in the last stages of preparation. I do this after checking with her.
“Ready?” I ask.
“Almost,” she answers.
A smart Grampa would throw a good book in the back of the car. Me? I sit there like an irritable lump, but now I calm myself with the ‘count to thirty’ trick. And you know what? It works a lot faster with my wife than it did with my Dad.
