There are lots of things that people say that I don’t really understand.
Like “Don’t put all your eggs in one basket.”
Being a Simple Man, this is exactly what I do.
All the time.
I think about one thing until it is Thought Through, and then I move on. How am I supposed to concentrate on the perfect jelly to peanut butter ratio in a PB&J sandwich when I’m still thinking about who would win in a fight – Tony Little or John Basedow?
Obviously I can’t.
And then there’s when someone apologizes first, before telling you no.
When people do this, I just don’t know how to reply. It’s going to be awkward.
Like when you call to make a reservation at a restaurant, and the hostess says, “I’m sorry, but I just don’t have any open spots tonight.”
What do you even say back to that person?
Do you apologize back for any pain you might have caused? “Well, I’m sorry that you’re sorry – I really didn’t mean anything by it, I just wanted some baked ziti.”
But I really don’t think they are sorry at all.
In fact, I’m willing to bet that they are quite pleased with being able to deny you whatever it is that you’re inquiring about.
The person apologizing to you is going to be okay. They are not, after you accept defeat, going to call their close friend and sob to them about how they wish they “could just help everyone all the time!”
Yet the person wants you to know that they have personally been affected by this Most Unfortunate Situation and their heart does indeed go out to you.
However, if it really is true – if they are truly sorry – then it’s actually quite tragic to think about.
All of the people in my life who have said the phrase to me have been marred with pain – because of me. Including those who said this recurring apology of my childhood: “I’m sorry, but I just think Dan Fauth is cuter than you.”
And this is why it’s so confusing to me – I just don’t know whether the person could care less or if they really are being sincere.
I guess I can judge each person differently according to the situation, because I’m fairly certain that I am cuter than Dan Fauth, the bane of my existence from sixth to eighth grade, and see how it goes from there.
And yes, I’m sorry, but that’s the best answer I’ve got.