When Did Assertive Come to Mean It’s-All-About-Me?

    Isn't it time for the 'my needs first' generation to carry a new torch? I mean, it started in the sixties, right? That makes us all at least fifty, now. Once, it made us feel spunky and assertive. New flash: It's no longer attractive.

    Here's what sparked this rambling. I seriously dislove flying. I don't look forward to riding a winged bus with a legion of strangers, hoping I'm not crammed between a pair of ex-linebackers. In fact, I'm one of those loonies ---so named by the ex-linebacker behind me--- who pays an extra fifteen dollars for an aisle seat. However, I was supposed to be squeezed between that pair of Goliaths before I moved with the click of a button and swipe of my credit card.

    Yet, across the aisle, a couple didn't like their seating arrangement, so they switched ---without consulting anyone. When a petite twenty-ish woman boarded dangerously close to cut-off time, the middle-aged seat-switching woman bluntly explained, "We weren't seated together. Would you mind taking that seat over there?" She nodded to the row I was once assigned to, where the linebackers split the difference and took the flank locations (aisle and window). Apparently, that center seat was the booby prize for this airline ride.

    "It's just…. I was sick," the young woman explained. "I really wanted a window seat."

    "Well, we wanted to sit together. There's that seat right there," Fifty-ish Woman persisted, albeit in a perfectly polite tone.

    The young woman glanced around. "Okay, I guess," Twenty-ish said finally.

    Moments later, the middle-aged woman talked loudly about overhearing the young woman say she felt ill. She passed the offer of antacids. Young woman declined, "Thank you, I'll be okay."

    Soon, we overheard flight attendants discussing "someone with a migraine." Quietly, Twenty-ish switched seats. After the move, Fifty-ish Woman spoke up. "Is she okay? I heard you say someone moved because she wasn't feeling well. Does she want this seat?"

    They'd found her another window seat, the flight attendant reassured her.

    "I just wanted to know if I could help. I hate to hear someone's not well on a long flight like this."

    "I understand. You're concerned about people. That's so nice," flight attendant / certified seating arranger said.

    "Well, yes, I am," Fifty-ish said. Same bold, in-control voice.

    You see, Fifty-ish irritated me ---can you tell?--- because she wanted what she wanted, but didn't want it to appear that way.

    It's a caring level seen too often in this 'me' generation, and I'm not talking about our children. I'm talking about us, the baby boomers who could be busy making a difference instead of focusing on our wants. Instead of stepping up to the caring plate, we end up with a façade, a kind of caring that still puts 'me' first, but tries to appear caring. At its root, it has that eternal question: "What's in it for me?"

     There's caring where you're inconvenienced, even deprived, which comes from principles, and the pay-off is naturally spiritual. There's also the caring that makes a show of caring, when the number one question at the base of it all is, "How does this impact me?" We want to know how it will reflect on 'me.' How others might react determines whether we'll do it.

    I'm not trying to be holier-than-thou. It's something we all struggle with, because we're built to take care of ourselves. But she stole that young woman's seat and refused to give it up without a confrontation, then presented herself as a caring human being once she had what she wanted.

     When did assertiveness degenerate into that kind of selfish caring? It seems we've confused principles with rigid rules …again. We want to be caring, but we want our needs met. We want to be yielding, but we want our rights respected, dammit.

     We want to be seen as something, rather than be something. We want to be seen as caring without actually having to be caring.

     Perhaps it touched a nerve because I struggle with it. I'm often unsure where my needs fall. I'm too concerned with others' opinions. Sometimes, I'm briefly free of that burden, and I like it. It's peaceful to do what you feel is right, even if inconvenient, even when what's in it for me is giving to someone else.

     A little more caring and little less me, that's all I'm pushing for today.