Posts in Us People
My Fire Marshall and Me, Or, Loving To Be Liked

Wanting people to like you is a strange thing. There is a large part of my psyche that walks around almost all the time believing that I don't care if people don't like me, until someone doesn't like me. That's when I quickly spiral into sadness, anger and depression. These emotions honestly surprise me when they occur because they occur so rarely. I never see them coming.

We had an event at work a couple of weeks ago and it was a packed out house. The room's capacity is 400 and there are 400 seats. We knew that more than 400 people would arrive (it wasn't ticketed, so it was a first-come, first served thing) so we told everyone as they came in that they needed to find a seat. That way we could keep track of how many people were in the room. The Fire Marshall happened to be present as well. He could have shut us down if we'd gone over capacity.

Anyway, a gentleman arrived with a video camera to film the event and wanted to know where he could stand in the back. I told him he needed to find a seat. He didn't like that. The Sheriff's deputies that were on site got involved (the client anticipated that it would get rowdy) and the gentleman found a seat near the front. Arguably a better place to record his video.

I got an email today relaying his complaint that my staff and I were rude, insulting and "wrong" about needing him to sit down. We were hypocritical and several other terrible things as well.

I don't know this man. I'll probably never see this man again. I am 100% confident we did the right thing. And I am sure we weren't rude or insulting. But it still hurts to know that that guy doesn't like me. The part of my brain that tells me that I totally shouldn't care is absolutely right, but the other part of my brain is still a little bummed about it....not bummed enough to lose any sleep over it, but bummed none the less.



My Healthcare Journey Part Four, Or, Welcome To Idaho, How May I Help You?

In our last episode, I ended up finding out that the ones and zeros at are both absolute in their dictates and shrouded in mystery.  Like a modern day Wizard of Oz for healthcare, not even their humble servants in the marketplace call center have ever seen them or know how to contact them.  ACA the wise and powerful hands down verdicts of eligibility with absolute sovereignty.  Due to this reality, I was advised to call my congressman. So I did. I contacted both representative Raul Labrador and Senator Mike Crapo. Thankfully, I got responses from the representatives of both offices.  They were lovely ladies that were more than happy to help.  If we are keeping score, Labrador was about a week faster in his office's response than Crapo, but they both get A's for effort there.  About a week after contacting them, I got an email from Lisa at representative Labrador's office indicating that she spoke with the Department of Health and Human Services (people! actual people!) and they said I needed to bypass the website and apply for medicaid for my children directly through Idaho Health and Welfare.  Thanks representative democracy!

So I sat right down and filled out an application from Idaho Health and Welfare for medicaid for my kids.  Medicaid eligibility requirements really surprised me.  A family of 4 can make up to $3631.00 a month and still qualify for medicaid for children up to age 19.  Craziness.  The application was an interactive PDF.  Most of the questions were the same as the federal website, so I had had plenty of practice.  I filled it out, provided appropriate income verification form copies and mailed it off.  That was on the 8th of January.

On the 16th of January I got a letter in the mail stating that my application for Medicaid is denied. Here's why:

Charis Eleanor Adams elected to decline their Medicaid eligibility.

Nora Jane Nicole Adams elected to decline their Medicaid eligibility.

Those crazy kids! Somehow my seven year old and 15 month old contacted the State of Idaho behind my back and told them they didn't want Medicaid coverage! Part of me is proud of their American self-reliance.  They don't need government support! They are patriots! Libertarians! Free citizens of the greatest nation on earth! They don't need the nanny state running their lives!  I didn't know I had imparted so much political theory to my children through my parenting, but apparently I've got a couple of Tea Partiers in my house.

Or maybe not.  I called Idaho Health and Welfare on the 17th and the lady I talked to laughed when she looked at my file.  She said that it looks like they made a mistake and that someone with more cred than her would call me back within 2 business days.


Us PeopleZak AdamsComment
Makeup Culture, Or, How To Effectively Market Using Frightening Words

My wife wears makeup.  Not always. Not a lot. She looks nice.  This post really has nothing to do with that, but I thought I'd just throw it out there. My wife gets the Ulta ad magazine in the mail.  Today I decided to read it.  It's amazing.

First of all, do you have skin concerns? Of course you do! Read on to find out the horrific ways that a combination of modern chemistry and ancient soil/minerals/plants/bugs/etc will solve them.

The crazy thing about the Ulta magazine, or perhaps just the makeup industry (my experience here is limited), is that it effortlessly rocks back and forth between extremely sterile medical sounding products and vials full of something-the-neighborhood-witch-doctor-whipped-up.  For instance, there's Stila.  Stila is a line of products, some of which are called "Glowing Reviews," "Coming Clean," and "Undercover."  These products are made with

Alpine Rose Stem Cell Technology, Hyaluronic Acid and Vitamins A, C & E.

Stem cells from alpine roses? I didn't know that was a thing.  And what's the "technology" part about? Is that just the procurement of alpine rose stem cells, or is there more to it than that? I looked up Hyaluronic Acid on Wikipedia.  It seems pretty legit. It's used in all manner of medical and cosmetic products for its skin firming benefits.  It's also used in the "equine industry." I found this nugget:

Note that, according to Canadian regulation, hyaluronan in HY-50 preparation should not be administered to animals to be slaughtered for horse meat. In Europe, however, the same preparation is not considered to have any such effect, and edibility of the horse meat is not affected.

Europeans eat horses? How did I not know this?  Also, Canadians, did you decide the skin on your horse meat was too firm and needed regulation? Is that actually what happened?

Sometimes the doctor talk and voodoo speak are mixed almost poetically, such as in Glow by Dr. Brandt - Ruby Crystal Retinol Hydracrème.  I think I've seen how that's made.  There is a giant Nazi base under a volcano somewhere where the retinol gets infused with the light of a ruby laser...or something.  Anyway,

The synergistic ingredients of time-release retinol and micronized ruby crystals come together to resurface & instantly illuminate skin.

Does that mean your skin will glow?  Will it glow red?  How long will that last?  The best part is the bottle contains 0.5 oz.  I guess you only want to glow on special occasions.

Bliss makes a whole line of "Fat Girl" products.  Wow.  How's that working for you?  Fat Girl Sixpack is a

tummy-toning gel with 6 active ingredients and ab-activating applicator.

This is not a weight or fat loss product.

What are the 6 active ingredients? Are they activated by your abs or do they activate your abs, and if so, what does that mean?  If it's not supposed to be a weight loss product, what does it do, and why is it for Fat Girls?  Again, how did the guy in your marketing department that came up with that not immediately get fired?

My favorite part about most all of these products is the fine print.  Normally on products the fine print is something that the manufacturer has to put out there, but they don't want you to really focus on.  I have a jar of peanuts in my cupboard that has "Peanuts" and "Made with Sea Salt" in large letters and "Enlarged To Show Detail" in small letters.  The peanuts aren't really giant mutant peanuts, and the manufacturer is afraid you will sue them if they don't explain that to you, but doesn't want to draw a lot of attention to that.  I get it.

With the makeup thing though, the fine print is almost always what the product actually does.  There is a company called Philosophy.  They have 3 products they are selling on one particular page of this magazine.  They are "Miracle Worker," "Hope In A Jar," and "Time In A Bottle."  This is the large print on the bottle/jar.  Below that are phrases like these:

your eyes are the windows to your soul not your age.

to witness a miracle is to know yourself. vital, brilliant, heavenly in body and spirit.

where there is hope there can be faith. where there is faith miracles can occur.

time can be on your side. when you focus on what really matters, time becomes your lifelong friend.

Then at the bottom, in the fine print, is a description of what you are actually buying.

Miraculous anti-aging retinoid eye repair

Miraculous anti-aging moisturizer

Original formula moisturizer for all skin types

Most of them contain the French version of those phrases in italics as well, because you know, French people are beautiful.

So I guess the thing is, ladies, what you really want to know that you have access to is "hope in a jar."  Whether or not that is moisturizer or serum, miraculous or age-defying, hydratant anti-âge or formule originale pour tous types de peaux, doesn't really matter much.

I'm sure I'll never really understand this.  I guess I'm ok with that.  However, one last observation.  There are several "Acne Starter Kits" in this magazine.  Is that really the best way to market that?  Surely they aren't for people that want to start acne, right?  It's for getting rid of acne isn't it?  Isn't there a thesaurus full of words that could be used to sell this product better that "Acne Starter Kit?"  Does it come with a petri dish?

Vanity Plates, or, I Can Say Something Better With 7 Characters Than You Can

I just realized another way that I arrogantly judge people. I'm seldom shocked when this happens, but it's still amazing to me that these kind of attitudes are buried inside my heart. I was driving today behind a van with a license plate that said "PINAPLE." I immediately thought, "That would make more sense if it said, 'PINAPPL.'" I then realized that I do that every time I see a vanity plate. I try to figure out what it says and then I check to make sure that there isn't a better way to have spelled it. Then I judge the person as somehow intellectually deprived if I can think of a better way to communicate that "I'm a sexy grandma" (SXYGRMA) or "This family is made up of 3 cats and a woman" (3KTNLAD).

I never consider than maybe the best vanity plate spelling was taken and they had to settle for second best. I just judge.

To Love And Have Lost Is Better Than To Have Not Loved At All, or, I Miss My iPhone

I have been without an iPhone for several months. I got rid of my iPhone so that I could save money. That sort of back-fired though. Here's that story:

"$30 a month is a lot," I thought. "My contract is up. I will use my free upgrade for a new dumb-phone, sell my iPhone on craigslist, and have an extra $30 a month." Unfortunately, in resigning my contract, I had to accept the new terms of AT&T texting plans. My old plan was defunct. All new plans were more texts and more expensive. I went with a family plan sized texting plan which ended up costing $25. I lost my iPhone for $5 a month.

Why do I miss my iPhone? Here's a partial list.

  • Instant directions.
  • Cataloging my life through pictures and twitter updates.
  • My guitar tuner/metronome app.
  • My voice memo app. (for recording song ideas)
  • It doubles as a flashlight.
  • A really solid alarm clock (with a custom playlist to wake up to)
  • HD video.
  • Not having everyone that calls me go "hey, let me call you back. There is a weird echo on the phone." (granted, that's more of a anti-current phone thing than a pro-iPhone thing, but still)
  • Calendar access.
  • Instant information. About anything.

Granted, that's just a partial list, but it's a start. Hopefully I will get another iPhone someday. Maybe.

A Short Story, or, The Last Pound Cake

Trips to Walmart are always exciting for me. It's part Star Wars style pod race, part mission impossible theme song driven time trial, all kinds of exciting. At least when I go alone. I don't like shopping with others. Anyway, my Walmart story today begins last night at 8pm. I breezed through the store, strategically choosing my route based on where my predetermined items were located. I arrived at the express line within minutes. The following people were in front of me.

  1. A 50ish year old man of African descent. Big hair, big smile, short shorts. He was purchasing a chocolate pound cake. How do I know? "Have you ever had a chocolate pound cake?" he asked. "They are delicious!" Apparently he had called ahead to check on said cake's availability at the store and was told that they were all out. Undeterred, he made the trip anyway (forgoing proper footwear in his haste) and snatched the last one, hidden from the bakery attendant's eye. He had just enough milk left at home for one piece before bed.
  2. Behind him was someone's grandfather. He had had something of a beer belly, but the sheer force of age had worn most of it down to his former, lanky figure. He too had a big smile and enjoyed his brief cake-related words with the man in front of him. He had 4 large bags of pre-popped white cheddar popcorn...and 5 apples. I can only assume it was movie night and his wife was watching her calorie intake.
  3. Next in line was the portly gentleman. Shirt tucked in, slacks, burnt orange mustache. He was on a mission, just like me. He didn't care about the cake, the popcorn, or the apples. He was bothered to even be standing in line. He had work to do. There was a 1/2 gallon of vanilla and a 1/2 gallon of strawberry in his hands, and two packs of dark fabric iron-ons for inkjet printers. Yes, his evening consisted of making custom logo'd t-shirts and eating ice cream.

The cashier's name was River. He had the earrings of a 22 year old and the mustache of a 14 year old. I paid with cash. He placed my goods in the bag on the opposite side of the carousel from me. I waited. He just stared into the bag. Finally, after a thoughtful pause, he picked it up and handed it to me. It was 8:20pm.

I walked out of the store with my jar of caraway seeds and my can of tomatoes and drove home.

His Brain, Her Brain, or, "No, Go Back, We Haven't Seen That Yet!"

My wife and I will have been married for 10 years next Friday. Overall, it's been a good thing. I can pretty heartily recommend marriage to most people...seriously though, it's been great. I am a holier person, more dedicated to Jesus, and my life has direction that I'm not sure it would have had otherwise. All of this is due to my marriage. My wife is a wonderful woman. But that's not the point of this post. Joanna and I are really different. Really. Really. Different. Case in point:

A couple nights ago, we were watching a movie on the computer. It was only half over but we were ready for bed. I waited until the movie got right up to the 1 hour 30 minute mark and stopped it. That way, the following night, when we wanted to finish the movie, I could just run the timer up to 1:30 and we would be right where we left off. A solid one and a half hours is easy to remember so I wouldn't have to look for the right place. Joanna found this to be hilarious. She said she would never do that, opting rather to just fumble her way through until she found the right scene. She laughed hysterically at how weird I was. She's the one with the plan to ruin the movie by getting the scenes out of order, but I'm the weird one.

Marriage, kids. It's good for the soul. :-)

I Am The 99%, or, Just In Case He's In A Serious Fingertip/Acid Accident

I really don't want to accuse the government of taking my money unjustly...but I just can't understand why a criminal history fingerprinting only lasts a year. It's $55 to have your prints taken, and the results from the background check are only good for 12 months. When we started our adoption journey 3 years ago, we were advised to have all our ducks in a row because it could all happen quickly. So we got fingerprinted as part of our required state home study. 3 years later, it looks like we are going to actually be adopting...and we have to get fingerprinted again. Now, I can understand the need for a new background check, and a charge associated with that, but why the whole procedure? Some of my $55 must be going towards the labor of taking my prints (which is the majority of time spent in the appointment, btw). So for a renewal, use the old prints and charge me less. I'm not sure why I even need to come in at all.

The whole thing would be less ridiculous if it weren't for the concept of the fingerprint in the first place. You know, the marks that you have, from birth, that never change and can be used to identify you anywhere, even after you're dead. The state needs updated copies of those every year. Sure they do.

Hey, Internet, Validate Me! or, Rather Beneficial Distribute.

I am conflicted by my blog's spam filter. You see, when I get a comment on a blog post, the spam filter automatically decides whether or not it is spam and puts it in a special "delete me" folder. It doesn't even bother me with it (typically I get an email asking me to approve comments). My inner turmoil comes from the fact that I 1) don't want spam comments and 2) want more comments. Comments are an indication that people are reading your blog. Now, not everyone who reads a blog comments (I rarely comment on the blogs I read) but, statistically, I would assume that the more people that comment, the more readers you have. So, I want comments for my own self-worth's sake.*

However, I don't want spam. Spam comments are not real readers. They are just robots that scour the web for places to unload their ridiculous advertising information. Here are a few of my recent favorites:

You know it and I know it… Facebook is off the charts. Well, I found a way to harness all that power. It’s a 3 in 1 software package that leverages the power of Facebook and integrates with Amazon, Ebay & Clickbank. Amazingly, it works even if you don’t have a product to sell or even a website. This is something that you just have to see to believe. Take a look…[link removed]

He's right, I know it. Totally off the charts. I use Facebook's power to heat my house.

Rather beneficial distribute. I just stumbled upon your blog and wanted to claim that I have really enjoyed looking at your blog content. Any way I will be subscribing to your own feed and i also hope you post again quickly.

You are the first to claim this. Thank you. Also, "anyway" is one word.

Hey, just discover your blog by means of Google, and located that it’s genuinely informative. I’m gonna watch out for brussels. We are grateful in case you continue this in future. Other people will likely to end up benefited from your current writing. All the best!

Location: Genuinely Informative. And hey kids, watch out for those brussels, they'll bite off your legs. All the best to you too!

I realize a good amount of people today have had various things to say about this publish, and a few of them are doing a good point, but I do recognize the way you watch it. Very good sharing.

Isn't "I do recognize the way you watch it" a lyric from a Beyoncé song? Maybe not.

See, I don't really want comments like this on my blog, but it still makes me a little sad that when I check my spam filter, I don't find that it has made any mistakes. Just once I'd like to be able to rescue a genuine comment from an interwebs passerby that mistakenly got caught. Not today folks. Not today.


*Only sort of not true.

Color Correction is Worth 24hrs of Rendering, or, Comic Sans Is The Devil

There are things that I like to do: Play music, dabble in video, etc. There are other things that I don't care about at all: bow hunting, Chinese calligraphy, etc. It's very interesting to me that when I am doing what I love, I am incredibly picky about it; when I'm not, I'm not. I will spend literally 24hrs of computer resources because a video I am working on really could stand to be just a little bit brighter. It won't be perfect, but it will be darn close. When I built the fence in my backyard though, there were many things that were just good enough and I don't even care that I didn't go the extra mile (my father-in-law the carpenter could point out all the little things I didn't bother with from at least 30 feet away though). I notice this behavior in others too. Today the marketing team at work (who sit on the other side of the cubicle from me) were talking about choosing fonts. Immediately (as font discussions inevitably do) they started talking about the horrors of Comic Sans. The use of this font, ever, according to them, is tantamount to design suicide.

This phenomenon is interesting. The more knowledgable that we get in a certain field, the more detail oriented and flat out picky we get.  The blessing of learning a craft is that you get better at it: I'm a better musician that I was years ago, our marketing team are presumably better designers than when they started. The curse is that you see imperfections in the work of others and have less tolerance for them in your own work.

I think the worst part is the resistance that comes from those that don't know any better. I think people are trying to help when they tell you that "it looks great" "no one can tell" "that's not even that important." However, it's the little things, the things that no one but those that do the craft notice, that separate ok work from excellent work. I can't tell you exactly why top end Italian furniture is better than Ikea, but I can tell that it is. My non-musician friends can't tell me why a mid-level local musician working hard at his craft sounds better than a lazy beginner that can't bother to practice, but they can tell me that he does.

I've learned to hate Comic Sans because of the little bit I know about design. In areas that I don't know, I have learned to trust the opinions of those that do. Whether I can see the minor details or not, I know that paying attention to them will end in a better product. Besides, the computer isn't doing anything else all night long. It might as well be working for me.

Anthropomorphisms, or, F Major's A Lovely Lady

Do you ever give genders and personalities to inanimate objects or concepts? Throughout history, ships and cars have been designated as "ladies." There are probably many other examples of common things that we think of as being male or female and give human characteristics to. Here is an example. I don't know why, but for as long as I can remember, I have assigned gender and personality to notes in the musical scale. I have never really identified a correlation between my anthropomorphisms and the way the notes sound, but there might be a link.

C Major is male. He is unassuming, but confident. He can be passionate and lively, in the right situation, but he can also function equally well as the wallflower at the party. He has a couple good friends, F and G.

D, who is a close friend with G but can't stand F and doesn't get along with C, is also male. He is sweet, charming, a little boyish and silly. He catches the eyes of the ladies more so than C, but he's not as nuanced and interesting once you get to know him. G is a close friend, as well as A.

E is somewhat of a pompous jerk. If he drove a car, it would be a fast one. If he had a house, it would be a big one. He makes up for lack of depth and character with the sheer awesomeness of his presence. He runs around with a lady on each arm: A and B.

F is classy. She is a full figured woman, with all the right kinds of tastes. She appreciates the calm confidence of C. She has a temper, but it is shaped by wisdom and poise. She can't stand B though, and does everything in her power to wreck her day.

G is warm and gentle. He is equally at home at a party or in a reading room. C and D are his two best friends.

A is a lot like G, but she would never admit it. She loves the reckless confidence of E and the crazy antics of D. She is light and airy and is always brightening rooms and turning heads.

B is brazen, unforgiving and conceited. She is condescending and outright mean at times. There is nothing that can stand in the way of her getting whatever she wants, and she has the means to live her life as she pleases. She keeps E around for laughs, but she doesn't really care about anyone but herself.

There you go. I promise, since I was a little boy, I have thought of the notes on the piano is just those terms. If you know anything about music, it's apparent that the notes hang out with one another based on their relationships as tonic, dominant and sub-dominant chords in the scale. The notes don't get along when one key sharps or flats another. For example, B is so self-centered because in her key, all the notes but E are sharped. I don't know why my mind interprets that as relational strife, but it does. I'm sure this has to do with learning to play in the key of B on the piano. It's one of the hardest ones for a young student to master. This kind of thinking is so ingrained in my mind that I always have a brief second thought whenever I play a song in B. I don't like B. She's a jerk.

So, is it just me? Am I alone in my crazy anthropomorphisms? I think not.

Yes, We Have No Roast Beef, or This Job Would Be A Lot Easier Without All You Customers

Sunday afternoon the family and I were driving home from a great 4 days in Seattle visiting family and hanging out. It was lunch time and we were in Ellensburg, Washington so we stopped at Arby's for some sandwiches. I've always felt like Arby's was just a little higher on the fast food chain than some of the burger options. I'm sure at some point I felt like eating there would be a healthier option than Burger King. I don't think that anymore, but I am still attracted to Arby's when I want something just a little fancier than a cheap burger or taco. Irrational reasoning or not, we drove up to Arby's and went inside. There was quite a line. Lots of Arby's folk in the back making food, and one lone girl at the register. She was trying to make the best of it, but, at that moment on that day, her world sucked. You see, Arby's had run out of roast beef. At least, they had run out of prepared roast beef. As I neared the front of the line, someone was frantically pulling chunks of hot meat out from some hot meat maker in the back and throwing them on an automatic meat slicer where another someone was just as frantically pulling them off piece by piece, weighing them and make sandwiches as fast as the slicer would let him.

The hard thing for April (that was the girl at the register) is that she was being told, pretty regularly, that she needed to let all the customers know that any beef product would be a ten minute wait. I think this was supposed to disuade the customers from ordering beef products. It wasn't working. Why wasn't it working? Because all of these shenanigans were taking place at Arby's. The roast beef sandwich place. April was making the best of it though. She asked the customer in front of me what name to put on the order. "Connie." "That's the name of my car," she said. "What?"  "Yeah, I have a Lincoln Continental. I call her Connie."

I ordered my roast beef sandwiches, much to April's chagrin, and went to the side to stand and watch. Each customer heard the same warning that the customer before them did: "Any beef sandwiches will be a 10 minute wait." No one changed their resolve for beef. At one point, the manager, or at least the girl in charge of the shift, after continuing to see beef sandwich orders appear on the monitors around the kitchen, came up, again, to make sure that April was telling her patrons that there would be a long wait for beef. April assured her that she was informing each one of the perils.

As I put in my 10 minutes, it was fascinating how frustrated the staff was about the beef. Now, I'm sure they were frustrated about there not being beef: whose fault was it that there was no beef right at lunch, is there anyway to bypass some steps in order to get beef faster, etc., but the way that their frustrations kept coming out was: why do you people keep ordering beef?

It's funny how we misdirect legitimate frustrations toward those totally not responsible for our problems. The way we see a solution, but it doesn't involve hard work, an apology and possibly personal loss, but instead a scapegoat that we can blame. The right thing to do would have been to suck it up, apologize profusely and give everyone free sodas (that's not even a statistically significant personal loss but it would have gone a long way) but instead the staff decided to blame all those pesky customers for their problems. If only we had gone to Taco Bell on Sunday, Arby's would have never run out of beef.

I only stayed long enough to get my 'Shroom and Swiss Roast Beef, Regular Roast Beef, Jr. Roast Beef and Large curly fry, but as I was walking out the door it became clear that the staff of the Ellensburg Arby's was going to get their wish: the shift leader announced that instead of just being behind on beef slicing, the restaurant had actually run out of beef. I'm sure the line subsided shortly thereafter.

Totally Oblivious, or I'm More Important Than You Except You Don't Know It

Ok, here's a thought. You know when you are walking behind someone and they can't see you, and you're trying to pass them but they keep shifting their weight slightly and you aren't really sure of what direction they are going but they seem to block you every time that you try to get around them but it's not really their fault because they don't even know you are there? You know, that? Or, when someone cuts in front of you in a line but they aren't trying to be rude because they didn't see you?

We spent the weekend in Seattle with Jo's brother and his wife. They are great. But, this means also that we did the obligatory Seattle things: Woodland Park Zoo, Pacific Science Center, Ikea. All those things are great in and of themselves, but I find myself in the above situations constantly when I am in large crowds. I really hate it. People make me angry. Why don't they simply widen their field of view in order to perceive me!? Am I not important enough to be perceived?? Now in reality, no, I am not. But I feel as though I should be. I care SO MUCH about my life, my agenda, my walking path. Why don't others?

I have felt this way all my life, but lately I have begun to think: I wonder how many times I act like that? How many times am I the one slightly adjusting my walking pace and direction so as to inadvertently block someone behind me? How many times have I rudely cut in line in front of someone without even knowing it? Probably lots. Thinking like this helps me have patience when others make me angry. It's not their fault, and when I do it to you, remember that it's not my fault either.