I thought I knew myself better than that. I really did. I just don’t understand it. How can I have been out in the workforce for all these years, and not know this about myself. Especially since every job I’ve ever held was a customer-facing position. I adore working with people, so how could I not realize…

What?

Oh, sorry, I’m not trying to be rude, I have just recently acquired the habit of mumbling to myself, particularly about…

I probably shouldn’t say, it is so embarrassing. I’d rather keep it a secret.

Okay. If you insist, I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you the horrible little fact I discovered about myself–if you promise not to tell anyone else. Agreed?

I’m too helpful, too empathetic for my own good. There, I said it.

What do you mean, what do I mean?

Okay, I’ll explain. Well, my current job is like no other I have ever had before. When I took the job, I had no clue that it would be so different. I certainly couldn’t tell from the job description, which read like a compilation of most of the jobs I’ve held in the past.

So I began the job full of energy and ready to learn. I loved it that the people I was to work with were so great. And the location–practically no commute at all.

Within the first week I discovered that this job brought with it stress-levels the likes of which I had not previously known existed outside of a hospital emergency room. The thought of the stress sends shivers through my body, so let us put it aside. It is the weekend after all.

Anyway, the main problem with the job lies within me. I am a fantastic librarian (humble, aren’t I), mainly because I love to help people. I get a kick out of helping people find what they need, solve their problems, and learn new skills. I adore the width and breadth of the problems, the creative solutions I must invent, the research, the face-to-face interactions.

Best of all, I could see happy faces when the need was met. It made my heart swell (in a good way) and relationships grew and were nurtured.

But in this job, the clients are never satisfied. Their insatiable thirst for more, more, more nearly drove me insane. Repeatedly I empathized with them, and bent over backwards to make them happy. Each time, it was never enough.

I wore myself out. When what I should have done was put down my foot and said ENOUGH.

Who knew empathy could be such a failing. Who would have guessed that the desire to help would be leave me frazzled.

Certainly not me!

I first saw them out of the corner of my eye. Four runners with blond hair gleaming in the sunlight. Three girls and one boy. They were so happy and carefree.

They looked to all be between the ages of 10 and 15, and they were enough alike that I immediately assumed they were from the same family. It was not quite 3:30 so I guessed they had just been released from school for the day and where hurrying home.

Traffic was heavy, but moving quickly, so I had little attention to spare for the group. Especially with the additional distraction of that glorious sun, which I had missed during the day due to my windowless office.

As I rolled down my window to enjoy a breeze, one of the runners, the boy, broke away from his crowd by shooting across a street just as the walk sign turned from walk to don’t walk. I could see the signs of frustration and stress in the shoulders of the three left behind at the curb waiting for the light to change, so I assumed they had decided to race home and the boy had “cheated” a bit by not waiting to cross with his sisters.

But traffic was still flowing, the sun was still shining, the breeze was still blowing, and it was really none of my business if the boy had an overly developed sense of competition.

The blare of a horn drew my attention back to the side of the road, and I turned my head just in time to see the boy barely being missed by a SUV. He had once again ignored the walk sign.

The thought that the boy had passed out of competitivousness and into stupidity crossed my mind a split second before, without even pausing to check the road for a break in the traffic, he shot across directly in front of me!

I slammed on my breaks in shock. My only thought was not to hit the stupid little idiot while I prayed that all the cars behind me were paying enough attention to avoid hitting me. I didn’t even have enough time to honk my horn before he safely reached the sidewalk and continued running down a side street.

He had escaped injury today. But I had to wonder if this kind of behavior was normal for him.

If so, his parents–and some driver, somewhere, sometime–was in for heartbreak.