Don’t Think Other People’s Thoughts

Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash

I’m a professional ruminator. No, not the kind with a multi-chambered stomach. I’m one of those people who can latch onto a thought — usually one that elicits difficult-to-deal with emotions — and hold onto it with all the intensity of a toddler holding a dirt-covered lollipop.

I excel at both pre- and post-rumination, often holding conversations with people in my head about difficult subjects long before discussing it with them, if ever.

Years ago, I was involved in the sale of a durable goods distribution company. Part of the sale was an attempt to liquidate inventory that had not sold in a long time. During much of the workday, I was busy moving inventory from one warehouse to another and helping to organize it. Later in the day, I would man the old warehouse to meet potential buyers of whatever flotsam we had left. The idea was to sell the products for whatever I could get for them.

On a particularly hot afternoon in August, a long-time customer and friend came in to buy an item that had more dust on it than Tutankhamun’s tomb. I sold it for a song — happy to be rid of it and happy to be one step closer to completing the arduous task of moving the aged-out inventory.

As it happened, my boss came over while the customer was still perusing the remnant piles. He noticed the item I’d sold in the back of the customer’s truck and asked what I’d sold it for.

I told him.

“Why would you sell it for so little?” He asked with a tone that said, “you’re an idiot.”

“You told me to sell the inventory for whatever I could get for it.” Was my reply.

Without another word, my boss went and retrieved the item from the customer’s truck — without permission — and proceeded to try to refund him his money. The customer was upset and argued with my boss, yet my boss persisted. In the end, my boss won. The customer accepted the refund and left without purchasing anything else.

I was so embarrassed for him, myself, and our company that my embarrassment turned into unexpressed rage.

That was more than 7 years ago, and simply recalling that story causes my blood pressure to rise.