Scrambled Eggs.

“…you know, I’m really impressed with the way she is taking the assignment and handling the task. As early as 5am this morning, she had sent a message to all of us encouraging us and giving us the reminder of the things we need to do and the timelines. Sometimes I wonder if she rests at all. She is so passionate. She spends her money, run the errands and do all the calls. I wish everyone could be more cooperative and responsive. Because, I’m sure she has her personal responsibilities too. But she has just picked this up and she is doing it so excellently. And it’s not like she is being paid for it. I truly love her heart, it’s incredible.

“She wanted us all to meet yesterday, but only three of us showed up. It’s so discouraging and I wish people’s attitude could be different. Because these things are not easy. Managing people is a lot of work and she is really trying her best. People just need to be cooperative and support her. Everyone will be shirking the responsibility and here’s someone who chose to pick it up, the least we could all do is encourage and support her.

“D’you know that even with that poor turn out she was still smiling and chatty. Amazing woman! God bless her heart. And I can bet you if she drops the ball, nothing will get done!”

“Please can I have more scrambled eggs?”

ERROR!

ERROR!!

ERROR!!!

“Olami! You mean with all I’ve said so far, scrambled eggs is your response?”

My mouth went faster than my brain. How do you fart in an elevator and attempt to take it back?

Big time goof.

What happened: while all that rendition was going on, a considerable large portion of my mind was on the sumptuous meal before me. Then I started running out on eggs while I still had some slices of bread left. The rendition continued and a war arose in my mind – to go and get more eggs or to ask for it? I considered the former would be rude, I surmised the latter was also closely related to rude. And at that point you would be right to assume I had stopped listening. And since my baby was all wrapped up on Mrs D, she wasn’t aware my plate was getting depleted of eggs, the only option I considered workable was to bide time till I found an opening to put a word in. Because when she was on a roll like that, she could be on a roll. So I feigned I was into the gist with the right ‘Hmmns’ in the right places and the ‘Ahhhs’ in the proper places. And suddenly I found the opening. Hallelujah!

In my mind, what I wanted to say was, ‘It’s really unfair, and people need to be more supportive and responsive. They shouldn’t leave it all to her.’

That would have been perfect, right? And if the request for eggs followed, it would have been well received, right?

But there’s a yawning gap between intention and action. And actions always deal a death blow on intentions. You would not be judged based on your intentions, your actions is what everyone, including your spouse, would judge you by. Have amazing intentions, as long as it does not produce amazing actions, you are on your own. Just as I am now.

“Olami! Scrambled eggs! With everything I’ve said?!”

“No now! Of course I heard you. I heard you now.” My feeble attempt at trying to remedy the situation.

“Were you listening to me at all?”

“Baby, come on, I heard you.”

“You’re right, you heard me. But were you listening?”

“Okay, I get, there’s a difference.” After all the classes one has given and has been given on The Differences between Hearing and Listening, you would expect one to do better. But knowing is not always the same as doing. “And truly that was not what I intended to say.”

“What did you intend to say? I have only been making noise to you, you were not paying attention to what I was saying. You were waiting for me to finish blabbing so you could ask for scrambled eggs. You were not listening to me!”

Caught red-handed. “O da, ma binu. I’m sorry.”

She took a deep breath. I could tell she still had more fight in her but my apology constrained her. She waited a little. She wanted to say more, pay me back in my own coin and lecture me a little. But reason prevailed. She resigned.

“Let me get you more eggs.” Her face was wounded and disappointed.

“Sorry nowwww. Don’t go.” I tried to pull her back. “Okay, I don’t want scrambled eggs again.”

She wriggled herself out of my hold and left to get the eggs. And there goes my appetite – it left with her. I suddenly was full.

Scrambled eggs! The brain is scrambled, truly.

 

 

Written by juwonodutayo

Writer. Tutor. Speaker. Blogger. Roger Federer Fan.

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