Perspective is everything.

As a strong advocate for mindfulness and self-awareness, I found myself in a moment of self-reflection the other week after an incident took place involving me and another guy in the parking lot of my local Target store.

There were no cops involved or physical altercations. However, egos were likely bruised and feelings were hurt.

I don’t want to spoil the details without properly telling the story, so forgive me for keeping this introduction short.

Half of this story is true. The other half is fantasy.

I’ll let you put the pieces together and formulate your own opinions as I walk you through the story of the asshole in the Target parking lot.

Sunflowers and Sunshine

Back in college, I asked a good friend of mine, and roommate at the time, how his night out at the bar was going.

He texted me back:

“Sunflowers and sunshine.” and included a bunch of obnoxious emojis to go along with it.

I don’t know why, but I thought it was hilarious.

The morning after, while chitchatting over a casual game of NBA Jam, I showed him the message. He didn’t remember sending it.

Ever since then, when we ask each other, “How ya doin’, man?” It’s always sunflowers and sunshine.

The Story from My Perspective

Years later, it’s Friday morning and my fiancé, Julie, and I are both off work. It’s a gorgeous summer day. We wake up late, share a bit of laughter and romance, and finally spring out of bed around 10am.

We’re getting married in a few short months, and the spark of young love is strong and blissful.

This weekend we’re driving up to her parents’ place in the mountains. It’s a relaxing retreat, secluded from society, where roasting marshmallows by the fire and listening to the sounds of the forest are standard practice.

We’re excited, to say the least, for the relaxing weekend we’ve got planned. You could say everything was sunflowers and sunshine.

We pack our bags, load the chow chow into the car, and set off to take care of a few morning errands before officially hitting the road.

First stop, the post office. Not the most exciting place to go, but whatever, it was quick and painless. Next, onto Target to pick up a gift for my future mother-in-law and a hot Starbucks beverage to kick-start the rest of the day.

When we pull into the shopping complex, it’s oddly busy for a Friday before noon.

“Do these people not have jobs?” I lean over and say to Julie, realizing that we, too, were out and about with the herd.

As my attention turns back towards driving, some asshole in a “my wiener is three sizes too small” type truck slams on his brakes, forcing me to do the same.

I throw my right arm in front of Julie as an instinctive gut reaction while simultaneously belting out, “what the f$!k!”.

I don’t know why he stopped.

To this day, I don’t know why he stopped. No pedestrians were near. I wasn’t tailgating like a jerk. And no other cars were in the immediate vicinity.

By slamming on my brakes, we avoid an accident. But, in a moment of weakness, as the truck turned left and the driver came into clear view, I tossed him the middle finger.

I felt dirty after doing it. Julie shamed me and said something to the extent of, “We’re in the South. Are you trying to get shot?”

I don’t know what came over me. I don’t flick people off very often, but you can bet I’m driving when I do.

In that moment, I just know that that asshole in the Target parking lot slammed on his brakes, and I was angry.

We park and head into the store.

A few minutes go by as I watched him through the Starbuck’s window driving his truck aimlessly around the lot. I was a little concerned maybe he was looking to give me a piece of his mind. I guess what Julie said had got to me a little.

After a few laps, a woman walked out of Target with a cup of coffee. He let her into his car and they drove off like bats out of hell.

The Other Side of the Story

It’s early Friday morning sometime around 6am. I’ve spent the last 5 hours sitting in a wildly uncomfortable hospital chair, not wanting to leave my sick mother’s side.

It’s been a long bout with cancer and almost a week since she was most recently admitted. During that time, my wife and kids have been in and out, occasionally checking in to see how things are going, though I’m not entirely sure they’re worried about my mother’s or my well-being.

Maybe that’s not fair of me to say — the kids are mostly innocent, after all. It’s their mom who seems to lack a soul for these sorts of things.

Today of all days, she is especially under my skin.

“It’s like you love that woman more than me.” She exclaims, completely and utterly insensitive of the situation unfolding in my life.

There’s a sale at the outlets, and she wants to go buy some things, as if we don’t already have enough. The kids dropped her off this morning, so she’s stuck with me for the next couple of hours.

Not wanting to create more misery for my mother in what could be her last few days in this world, I reluctantly agree to take her shopping.

On the way, we make a pit stop at Target to grab some Starbucks coffee. I would likely fall asleep driving and kill us both if we didn’t.

It’s busy as hell.

“Perfect.” I think to myself, “just what I was hoping for.”

I drive up to the front of the store, hand my nagging wife my credit card, and pull away when suddenly my phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Smith? It’s Dr. Martin. I wish there was an easy way to say this, but your mother passed.”

I slam on the brakes. I can’t believe it. All that time spent by my mother’s side and within an hour of me leaving, she makes her exit.

As I snap back to driving and go to make a left turn, some jack-off behind me flips me the bird. If that asshole only knew the world I was living in.

“Whatever, fuck that guy.” I say to myself, while trying to formulate words back to the doctor.

I aimlessly drive around the parking lot for a couple of minutes, talking to Dr. Martin and letting him know that I’d be back as soon as possible.

My wife comes out with just her latte. I’m so pissed off and rattled I don’t even care. As soon as she’s in the door I floor it and tell her, “Sorry, but we’re going back to the hospital. My mom just died.”

She replies, “Well, that means there should be no rush getting back there then, right?”

Kill me now.

A Moment of Reflection

Truthfully, I don’t know what happened that made that guy slam on his brakes. Maybe he braked for the hell of it. Maybe he was texting and driving (like an asshole) and something spooked him as he turned his attention back to the road.

Or maybe, his mom just passed, and his soulless wife made him leave her side to take her shopping.

I wish I knew what actually happened.

But, that’s the thing, you never really know what kind of day someone is having, or the trials and tribulations life has thrown their way.

Kindness is almost always the best way to approach these situations. It makes things easier on both parties.

When our world is crashing down, and nothing seems to be going our way, the last thing we need is the malice of a stranger’s middle finger to reminds us how shitty this world can be sometimes.

So, who was the real asshole in the Target parking lot that day?

Next time, I’ll be taking a moment to respond rather than react. My mindfulness practice has helped me in a great number of ways, but in the grand scheme of things, I’m still just a beginner. And I’m learning every day.