PEOPLE ASKING FAVORS

They Never Did Any For You Before, So Why Should You Start or Continue Now? (A Cynic's Guide to Sanity)

Alright, buckle up buttercups, because we’re diving headfirst into a pool of delightfully bitter honesty. We’re talking about that nagging voice in your head that whispers, "But… but… I should… help… be… nice…" followed by the inevitable realization that your kindness meter is perpetually running on empty while everyone else is seemingly siphoning free gas.

Today, we're tackling the age-old question, the existential crisis of the perpetually helpful: Why should you start or continue doing things for people who have never, and likely will never, lift a finger for you?

Let’s be clear. We’re not advocating for a full-blown Scrooge McDuckian existence where you swim in a vault of gold and shoo away carolers with a rusty rake. But we are suggesting a serious re-evaluation of your people-pleasing policies. We're talking about implementing a stringent "Helpfulness Audit," if you will. Think of it as Marie Kondo-ing your generosity: if it doesn't spark joy (or at least a reciprocal effort), toss it out!

Exhibit A: The Office "Helper"

Let's start with the workplace. Ah, the office, that glorious ecosystem of passive-aggressive emails, lukewarm coffee, and the ever-present burden of being the only person who knows how to actually use the photocopier. You, my friend, are probably "that person." The one who gets bombarded with "Can you just...?" requests.

"Can you just… fix the printer again?" (Even though Susan actively tried to feed it a stapler last Tuesday.)

"Can you just… cover my shift on Saturday?" (Because Kevin has a "very important" pickleball tournament. Apparently, brine-soaked vegetables are more important than your sanity.)

"Can you just… proofread my report? It's due in five minutes!" (This one ALWAYS comes five minutes before the deadline. It's like they have a psychic connection to your lunch break.)

Now, ask yourself: Have Susan, Kevin, or even Brenda from accounting ever offered to, say, bring you a coffee that's actually hot? Have they ever volunteered to cover your shift so you can finally catch that cat video marathon? Have they ever even acknowledged that you practically single-handedly keep the entire office running on the fumes of your unwavering helpfulness?

The answer, I suspect, is a resounding "NOPE."

So why are you doing it? Are you afraid they’ll judge you? (They already are, probably for using Comic Sans in that one memo back in '08.) Are you hoping they’ll suddenly develop a conscience and shower you with gratitude and gifts? (Spoiler alert: they won’t. They’ll just ask you to assemble their IKEA furniture.)

The Solution: Deploy the "Strategic Amnesia" technique. Suddenly forget how to use the photocopier. Develop a severe allergy to pickleball. Convince Brenda that Comic Sans is making a comeback. (Just kidding… mostly.)

Exhibit B: The "Always Available" Friend

Ah, friendships. Those beautiful, complicated relationships forged in the fires of shared trauma, questionable fashion choices, and the mutual understanding that you’ll always be there to listen to their dating woes. But what happens when that friendship morphs into a one-sided therapy session where you're constantly dispensing advice, offering shoulders to cry on, and canceling your own plans to bail them out of yet another ill-advised karaoke night?

Meanwhile, when you need a friend, they're suddenly "too busy" rewatching the entire Marvel Cinematic Universe in chronological order. (Again.) Or, worse, they offer the ever-helpful, "Have you tried, like, meditating?"

Look, everyone needs a shoulder to cry on sometimes, but friendships are supposed to be reciprocal. If you're constantly the emotional dumping ground with no support in return, it's time to re-evaluate.

The Solution: Set boundaries. Politely decline invitations that feel more like obligations. When they start venting, gently steer the conversation towards their own solutions ("So, what do you think you should do?"). And for the love of all that is holy, schedule your own activities and don't feel guilty about prioritizing your own well-being. Remember, you can’t pour from an empty cup… unless you’re trying to make powdered juice. Then, empty is preferable.

Exhibit C: The Family "Obligation"

Family. The people who are genetically obligated to love you, even when you’re wearing mismatched socks and singing opera in the shower. But sometimes, that obligation gets twisted into a never-ending stream of demands.

"Can you drive Aunt Mildred to her bingo tournament? She says you're the only one who understands her 'lucky' route."

"Can you babysit the twins? Their parents are going on a 'much-needed' vacation to… you guessed it… a pickleball tournament."

"Can you handle Christmas dinner this year? Again?"

And while you love your family (presumably), you're starting to feel like a designated chauffeur, daycare provider, and short-order cook, all rolled into one slightly resentful package.

The Solution: Honesty (with a healthy dose of humor). Explain (calmly, if possible) that you have your own life and limitations. Suggest alternatives (Uber for Aunt Mildred, a professional babysitter, a catered Christmas dinner). And if all else fails, blame your doctor. "The doctor says I'm allergic to bingo, children, and holiday cheer. It's a rare and tragic condition."

The Bottom Line (and a Few Practical Tips):

The point is this: it's okay to prioritize your own needs and say "no." It's not selfish; it's self-preservation. You are not a human vending machine dispensing kindness and assistance on demand. You are a valuable human being with your own dreams, goals, and Netflix queue.

So, how do you actually break free from the cycle of perpetual helpfulness? Here are a few handy tips:

• Practice saying "no." Start small. "No, I can't water your plants while you're on vacation. I have a very important… competitive napping tournament."

• Reframe your thinking. Saying "no" doesn't make you a bad person. It makes you a person with boundaries.

• Delegate. Find someone else to help! Spread the joy (and the workload).

• Invest in yourself. Treat yourself to things you enjoy. A massage, a good book, a solo interpretive dance session in your living room. You deserve it.

• Embrace the awkwardness. Saying "no" can be uncomfortable at first, but it gets easier with practice. Just remember, their discomfort is not your problem.

• Consider therapy. (Seriously, a professional can help you unpack why you feel the need to constantly please others.)

• And finally, remember this blog post. (Bookmark it. Print it out. Tattoo it on your forehead. Whatever works.)