Dichotomy

The car was black. Sitting motionless. Her body slumped forward, with only the safety belt to support her weight. Her head was cocked to the left. Although her eyes were covered with dark sunglasses, somehow I knew they were staring at me lifelessly.

I’m sensitive. In fact, I am way too sensitive. But I am not an empathetic person. I try to be compassionate. Sometimes I think I am, but the truth is, I’m not even close.

The way I see it, there are a few initial responses to tale of human suffering. The first is, “Oh, those poor people. I wonder what I can do to help?” The second; “Oh, those poor people. I’m glad it didn’t happen to me.” These are the most prevalent. My typical reaction is more like, “Oh, those poor people. I wonder what we’re having for lunch?”

I do try. I want to be empathetic. I want to be helpful. Something deep inside cannot let the helpful side surface.

When I pass a stranded motorist my initial response is to stop and help. I don’t stop.

Why should I stop? I don’t know anything about cars
They might need to call someone.
Everyone has cell phones these days. I’m sure they’ve already called for help.
You should stop.
It could be a trap. People do that you know. Prey on the good Samaritans. Rob them, steal their cars.
Who do you think has the gun the 5 year-old? Or the pregnant mother?
I would stop, but I’m already late for my meeting. I don’t have time.
I think we’d have a good excuse for being late.
Well, I’m too far away now. They’re probably gone already.
Turn around.
I’ll come back from the meeting this way. If they are still there, I’ll stop.

At this point, the “something deep inside” stops listening to the “initial response”. And I drive on feeling slightly guilty. After a few miles, I forget all about that poor stranded family.

This template of internal discussion applies to many situations. I see someone in need and the above dialog ensues.

That’s not to say, I never help people. I do. If I see an elderly person trying to lift a heavy bag of dog food into their car, I’ll intercede. If a baby drops a toy or pacifier and the parents don’t notice, I’ll return the item. I’m not heartless. In these cases, though the need is immediate. As is my response.

Last week I went to the bank to deposit my check as I do most weeks. As I pulled into the parking lot and turned to enter the Drive-Thru lane, I noticed a black car sitting just inside the entrance to the parking lot. This is not an unusual sight. Patrons often pull into the parking lot, but stop short of entering the drive-thru to complete their deposit slip or transfer request.

As I approached the car, I noticed the woman. She was elderly (maybe 75 or 65 and a heavy smoker). She was leaning forward as one might expect of a person filling out bank documents. Then the oddity of the situation hit me. Her head was turned toward me. And she was not moving. At all.

I slowed a little watching for hints of movement. Signs of life. Nothing. Is she dead? Surely not. If so her foot would’ve relaxed from pressing the brake. But she did not move.

I stopped momentarily. Should I knock on her window? What if she just dozed off, I’ll scare her to death. Maybe literally judging from her age. Should I go inside and let someone at the bank know there’s a corpse in their parking lot? If she’s gone when they go out to check on her, they’ll have me committed. Maybe I’ll just tell someone at the drive-thru window. Maybe.

I drove around to the teller windows. I sat for a few moments while another drive-thru customer concluded their transaction. Initial Response and Deep Inside continued their tête-à-tête as I waited.

Tell them.
Don’t. She’s fine.
Tell them.
“Hello, how are you this afternoon?” The bank teller.
They’ll think you’re crazy.
“Fine thanks.” Me.
Tell him.
Just finish your business and drive back around to check on her.

Finally! A compromise! The decision is made. Both sides agree. I’ll make my deposit then drive back around the building and check on her again. If she hasn’t moved then I’ll…
What will I do? Do I get her out of the car and perform CPR? I don’t know CPR. I passed the certification test. In 1990! If she’s there, just go get someone.

As this exchange continued I noticed a dark image enter my peripheral vision. The two sides continued to argue. Finally the image registered as a car. Still squabbling. It was a black car.

“Anything else, sir?” “Um…” CPR. Call 911 and leave. Tell this guy. She’s already dead anyway.

I look away from the teller to find an answer to his question. And there she is. Banking.

I told you to leave her alone; I was right.

Another victory for Deep Inside.