"I'm helping him."
"Well, I can help him, too."
We came down for breakfast at our hotel in Newcastle. Just arriving in the restaurant caused such uproar. The hostess rushed to move a chair out of my way and then made a big fuss about me having enough room. She ended up taking chairs away that weren't even in my reach! Then she rushed to explain how breakfast works forgetting that fat men are born understanding 'buffet'.
We were waiting for a friend to arrive so we said we would just wait for a few minutes. In those few minutes another staff approached and asked if he could help us with anything. She swooped in and let him know that she had peed on the four corners of the table and if we needed anything, she'd be the one to get it.
Thereby began the 'I'm going to help the cripple games.'
Each was desperate to name it, get my toast, order my eggs, pour me hot water for my tea, remove my plate, refresh my napkin. They were falling all over themselves sometimes, no kidding, bumping into each other to get to the table first. It was wild.
I tried a couple of times to settle them down. I didn't need half the services they were offering, didn't need all the attention. But they just looked at me with watery eyes and said, 'But I really don't mind' or 'I just here to help'.
So which is better, being ignored as if you don't exist, or existing just a little too much?
Well, when we left the restaurant I said to Joe ...
"Would you mind ..."
He knew where I was going and said, "Yes."
And thereby put my 'I think I'll be the Queen of Sheba today' plans on hold.