Tim Dowling writes a hilarious piece on the demise of his car. But really, it’s about so much more.
The best bit? When the car can be resuscitated no more, when he’s worrying about how to get home, when he’s thinking about the challenges of buying a new vehicle, and his wife dares to say, “Come on. It’s funny!”
Mr Dowling’s response?
“Do you know what?” I say, snatching a pad off the table. “I’m going to write, ‘Come on, it’s funny!’ on this piece of paper. Then I’m going to do this,” I say, folding the paper and putting it in my wallet. “And at some point in the next 48 hours I’m going to take it out and show it to you, to remind you of your knack for seeing the lighter side.”
Doesn’t that so wonderfully capture the moment?
It reminded me of a story I heard motivational speaker Paul McGee recount a few years ago. As a famous advocate of encouraging people to put things into perspective by encouraging us in dark moments to ask ourselves, where is this issue on a scale of 1-10?, the irony was not lost on him when in an embarrassing airport customs incident involving his wife and some apples in New Zealand, where he seemed to have lost his sense of humour, his teenage son turned to him and asked, “Dad, on a scale of 1-10 . . .”
I’m not one for revenge or ultimatums – though those who know me well might be thinking right now of my I forgive, but never forget mantra by which I live my life – but Mr Dowling’s Come on, it’s funny note does seem rather tempting for so many situations.
But I’m going to rise above it. Perhaps just a metaphorical, symbolic I told you so note will live with me . . . I’ll bring it out only in my own head, and only I will know the smugness I’m feeling when I’m proven right.
How I’m going to mask that smug grin is quite another challenge . .