The Disappointment of Another

The SJG never likes to let down a fellow human.  Ever.  Letting down a fellow human rests heavy on my soul. Let's just say the supreme disappointment of another is my least favorite activity. I operate on guilt and caffeine.  When there's an overload of either or both, I need to drop what I'm doing, eat a nice bagel and regroup.  Good thing the let down happened in a deli for this non-televised event.  "My finger is bleeding," my friend Jim announced, before I'd even sat down. "Don't panic, I have Life Alert on speed dial."  "I don't need Life Alert," he said, "I need a band aid." "How did you injure yourself, and is it my fault?" Guilt.  My go-to emotion at all times. "I cut it on something in the car," Jim said.  "An automotive injury," I said. "Will it require a blood transfusion?" "No, just a band aid.  If anyone has a band aid, it's you."  Well, now the pressure was on.  I searched through my hand bag for a band aid, knowing in my gut that I was on the verge of devastating my close personal friend, a self-described devastatingly handsome individual, a mensch responsible for my recent career bump into the Land of the Shockingly Employed. "I've got mints and gum," I said, to buy time. "Dental floss and a nail file.  Advil, Xanax, Ativan.  I can't tell which is which, they've all melted together." "Are you telling me you don't have a band aid in there?" Jim asked, every word bathed in distress. "I'm sorry. Can you ever forgive me?"  Jim looked at his wounded finger and smiled. "It's clotted.  Never mind."  Clotted or not, I stopped at the pharmacy on the way home, bought an assortment of multi-colored first aid items, and dumped them all in my hand bag.  Next time something awful happens in my presence, I'll be ready. As if I weren't already.