I was walking back to my Jeep after class, and found myself in a dilemma of sorts. For walking across my path was a professor exiting the printing shop carrying a stack of newly printed handouts. He was wearing the casual affair, an un-tucked polo shirt with a pair of blue jeans. A glint of sunlight caught the shiny veneer of the size sticker still stuck to the thigh region of his apparently new jeans. Immediately I asked myself if I should inform him of his pants problem. Since he was coming from the overly populated printing building rather than a parking lot, I wondered if either no one had noticed the sticker yet, or no one had felt the need to inform him of his denim dilemma. Because the pants sticker was obvious to me from nearly thirty feet, myself needing glasses to see anything, led me to believe I was not the first to spot this problem. Therefore assuming that I was not the first person to view this phenomenon, the professor had been going about his busy daily routine of scholastic adventure and no one had yet bothered to do a good deed and take this man aside to inform him of his sticky situation.
The man had by now nearly escaped me, and time was of the essence! Here I was submerged in my musings. But I was about to miss my chance to do the good deed! Somehow I had to think about the decision between approaching the professor to inform him, and simply continuing on with my own daily routine and leaving this informative mission to some other observant person.
My decision as to what to do in this situation is based upon what I believe. I believe that the difference between a decent or shameful human being is the failure to act upon what boils down to be simple good intentions. I believe that we reap what we sow in this life, and when life gives you lemons, it’s because you’ve sown sour seeds! I believe that karma is real, and to do unto others as you would have done unto yourself.
Time is out, and it was time to do the deed, so I quickened my pace and had a short and discrete conversation with said professor. Although the man looked slightly embarrassed as he twisted and contorted his body to confront the rouge sticker, I felt I had made the right choice in choosing to overcome the urge to do nothing about what I saw stuck firmly to his lower thigh. And with an apparent reddish tint to his face, and a sheepish tone to his voice, he proceeded to thank me kindly for informing him of his sticky trouser troubles. We proceeded to go our separate ways, and I’ll likely never see or speak to this professor again. But that I will never see him again changes nothing of my decision to tell the man what he needed to hear.
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