It was clear they’d seen it all.
For 13 pages, they told us what to
do and what not to do, leaving no doubt that those who’d done it or not done it
before had really annoyed them.
Don’t come late. Don’t ask anyone
but us about the weather. Don’t park behind the pizza shop. Don’t carry a bag. Don’t
walk too slowly. Don’t expect to find a bathroom at the destination. Don’t
think that we’re going to have a car seat for your child. Don’t bring a tripod.
Don’t bring a selfie-stick.
Some rules over the 13 pages were
in caps. Some in bold. Some in large fonts.
It wasn’t so much that they wanted
to help us as it was that they didn’t want us to irritate them.
We showed up anyway. It was a
place we wanted to see and besides, I was just a little bit curious about what
kind of people wrote a 13-page treatise scolding potential clients for
something someone else (or maybe everyone else) had done.
I had seen things from their angle
before. During my summers in college, I worked in national parks, where it was
certainly true that every tourist asked the same questions and as often as not,
made the same mistakes.
I’ve also been the annoying
visitor who is so lost and confused that I’ve just done the very thing that the
hosts knew I was going to do – that was wrong.
So I could understand. But still …
There’s
providing guidance and then there’s airing grievances.
And
their grievances made us feel we were guilty before we even showed up.
Just as expected, as we headed out
on the tour, we were rushed, prodded, reprimanded and treated like we were more
than a bit ignorant.
“This is so stressful,” said one
in our group.
Yet all would agree it was worth
it.
Sometimes you’ve just got to play
the game. We parked in the right place, we didn’t take the wrong equipment, we
didn’t walk too slowly.
And we smiled the whole time.
So their 13 pages worked.
Maybe we should all write 13 pages
when we’re hosting, starting with: Don’t think we’ll have dinner ready if we
don’t know what time you’re arriving.
Or maybe it would have been nice
to get 13 pages of instruction/warning when we got married, starting with:
Don’t think you’ll always get to choose which movie to watch because two
different people are going to like two different kinds of movies.
Or maybe it would have been nice
to get 13 pages when we started out in life, beginning with: Don’t think you
can get everything you want as soon as you want it. And moving to: Don’t think
so much about the things you want that you forget about what other people need.
In caps. And bold.
Or maybe it’s just as good to
bungle along and figure things out as we go. Yes, everyone has done their own
bungling along, and maybe their bungling is kind of the same as your bungling,
but maybe what you learn from doing your very own bungling is what you always
needed to know and finding it out for yourself means it’s yours.
Guidance is good. I’ll take
guidance any way I can get it, though I usually prefer it as it usually comes:
with a bit of patience and maybe even a touch of humor.
And therein comes the solution no
matter what side of the equation you’re on: patience and humor.
And then just smile the whole
time. It will be worth it.
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