I hate oranges. I hate their smell, their taste. I avoid touching them as much as I can, because they makes me nauseous. I don’t know why but they remind me of medicine- some traumatic childhood experience?
But anyway, I was chatting with a new teacher at school that none of my colleagues knows why she is there since we haven’t been told anything except, “this is a new teacher and she will be joining us.” and as we talked about our experiences, me telling her about how I moved from London, changed careers, etc, she very nicely offered me an orange. I nodded, and took it automatically, then lowered my eyes to those three orange wedges covered with white webs.
I didn’t want to eat them. I didn’t even want to hold them, but as time passed I realised it was too late to say “no thank you,” or just leave them on the table after I said ok. Plus, as I looked at her waiting for me to continue my story, I knew she was expecting me eventually eat them.
And I did. Thank god they were a bit bland in taste and I was able to give the remaining two wedges to a child that has come up to save me (and tell me about the movie he had just watched.)
A pushover is someone who is easily influenced or overcome and can’t say no. Though I don’t see myself in those strict words, I do sometimes think of others before myself and end up going with the flow. It did cross my mind how she would feel if I refused the kind gesture. And this is not only for this tiny episode, but for many others. Like Jehovah’s witnesses stopping you in the streets to give you a leaflet about God, when you are in a hurry or don’t want to really stop and take anything but do anyway because I put myself in their shoes.
It’s thinking about the other person that has often made me come second, and though I do like considering other people’s emotions, I want to be more assertive, polite still but assertive.