I'm With Stupid

Jon recently rear-ended another car, altering the front of his in such a way that his hood will not completely latch. So, when he had to leave for a conference last night, I offered to let him drive my car to Atlanta. I’m leaving town on a camping trip today, so I decided to get up early this morning, pack up my gear, return some movies to the store, grab some breakfast and still be at work on time. A plan that seemed to be successful until I tried to start Jon’s car. No luck. Maybe I’m doing something wrong, I thought- since he had warned me about a security feature, having something to do with how you unlock the doors, use the clicker remote, etc. So I got out of the car, locked the doors, unlocked the doors, and got back in to try again. Nothing. After a few expletives and some strong “sighs,” I tried to call him. His phone was off. My roommate offered to help with the process and I decided to try Jon again. He answered in his I’ve been awake for two minutes kind of voice. “How are you?” he asked. I decided to skip the pleasantries. “Well, I’m okay except I can’t get your car started.” After a few minutes of speculation (doors ajar, dome light left on, etc.) he suddenly said, “OH!” At this point a slight feeling of relief rushed through me as I anticipated some secret method of operation. Maybe his CRV was more high tech than I thought. Perhaps a retinal scan or finger print analysis was required for the ignition. I felt sure the solution was coming. “You have to hold the clutch in when you start it.”
(We’ll pause here to let that one sink in.)

I bit my lip and decided to let that one go. He’s stressed and tired, I thought to myself. He probably didn’t mean to call me a moron (implied) and he doesn’t need me to blow that remark out of proportion. Though apparently we need to spend more time together if he thinks I’m that stupid.

My roommate and I got the car jumped off and as I was driving to work, I started thinking about my experiences as an assumed idiot.

I remember when I started my job at the church. One of my co-workers asked me for an average Sunday attendance from the previous year. As he started to walk away from my desk, he said, “You do know how to do averages, don’t you?” Hmmmm. Well, aside from the fact that I did attend college (where I got an A in statistics), I also graduated middle school. So, yes- I know how to do an average. This was my own silent conversation of course. To him, I just politely nodded my head and tried not to roll my eyes.

I guess I should be thankful that it happens on occasion because it reveals my pride… the pride that causes my jaws to clench and my skin to tingle when I try to restrain myself from verbally assaulting the offender. It’s also a good lesson in self-control. And, I’m also acutely aware that it is that same pride that causes the problem in the first place… the same pride that causes me to treat people as though I think they’re idiots… the same pride that made the “I’m With Stupid” tee shirt so popular.