A half-mile before the exit I use to get off the highway on my way home is something called “the spur,” which is an exit that leads directly to another highway. For people who are unfamiliar with the roads here, it’s actually a bit confusing, because the highway number (I-94) actually follows the exit. It’s not uncommon to see a car veer suddenly to the right in an attempt to make the exit at the last second as they process the signs. It’s also not uncommon to see a car sitting in the no man’s land between the road and the exit, hazards and dome light on, a big ol’ map engulfing a befuddled driver.
I usually stay in the left lane as I pass this particular exit, because people tend to do stupid things when they think they’re about to miss their exit, like slam on their brakes or cut other people off. Last night was no exception, except that I was in the right lane. With the spur ramp rapidly falling behind, the guy to my left started drifting into me. I honked. He kept coming. I sped up to make sure I wasn’t in his blind spot. He saw me… hesitated… but that little trigger inside his brain wasn’t registering that he had missed his exit. He didn’t know what to do… and somehow, I could tell. He was clearly in the wrong, but being right would mean having quite a nasty accident at many miles per hour. He saw me, he knew he couldn’t make the turn from where he was, and yet he kept coming.
In a millisecond, I weighed the inconvenience such an accident would create for all the harried commuters behind us, and for me especially, since I really wanted to see my family at my house and not the hospital, and–though I’m sure they’re lovely people–I had no interest in hanging out with the local EMTs. Wisely, I decided to take the spur exit myself in order to make space for the indecisive clown to my left.
Eight miles out of my way later, I made it home safely. I wish I could say I wasn’t aggravated, but that would be a lie. I was incredibly aggravated, and had Mr. Inattentive been driving a convertible, I probably would have tried to launch a loogie into his back seat to share the feeling. But he wasn’t, and I didn’t have any phlegm, so I just drove to the next exit, turned around, and went home.
I tried telling myself that everything happens for a reason, that maybe this guy saved me from an accident or a nail in the road or something. Who knows. My daughters are in the other room right now watching Cinderella… now there’s a girl who keeps her cool despite dealing with much worse every single day of her life! I had none of her aplomb. I felt more like… not quite Sonny from The Godfather, but maybe
I didn’t like being inconvenienced, I didn’t like having to accommodate some moron’s mistake, I didn’t like losing 20 minutes with my family. I was in the right, and that should have been enough to entitle me to transfer my inconvenience to him. But it wasn’t. It isn’t. Because sometimes, being right doesn’t matter. Life comes first, and you’ve got to take it as it comes.
In any given moment, you’re either having a great time or making a great story. For a few minutes last night, I forgot that.
Jason Seiden is Co-founder and CEO of Ajax Social Media, a training company that shows professionals how use social media to work more effectively.
I'm the CEO of Ajax Social Media. We're helping 1 million people shine by making their online stories better. 