Minutes from the First Meeting of Consideration Anonymous
Date: A Tuesday, because of course it is. We’re too considerate to meet on a weekend.
Location: The basement of a church that didn’t ask for our help reorganizing their hymnal collection, but got it anyway.
Attendance: 1 (Me, myself, and I. Others were invited but apparently had “better things to do.”)
7:00 PM: Meeting called to order. Delayed by 15 minutes due to holding the door open for imaginary latecomers.
7:16 PM: Hi, I’m David, and I’m a consideration addict.
7:17 PM: [Pause for applause that never comes]
7:18 PM: Right. So, here we are. Consideration Anonymous. Where the coffee is always fresh, the chairs are always arranged in a perfect circle, and the emotional baggage is always carefully packed and labeled.
7:20 PM: I suppose I should share my story, though calling it ‘my’ story feels inconsiderate to all the bit players involved. It began as innocuously as a butterfly flapping its wings in the Amazon, except the butterfly was my relentless politeness, and the Amazon was every social interaction I’ve ever had.
At first, it was just good manners — holding doors, saying please and thank you. But soon, I was chasing the consideration dragon, hunting for increasingly obscure ways to be helpful. I once spent six months learning Elvish just so I could compliment a Lord of the Rings fan on their bumper sticker… in their native tongue.
Before I knew it, I was running an underground railroad for shopping carts, personally escorting each one back to the store, whispering words of encouragement along the way. “You’re doing great, cart number 47. Your wheels may squeak, but your spirit is indomitable.”
7:25 PM: Rock bottom? Oh, I hit that and kept on digging. Last week, I noticed a sad-looking cloud in the sky. So naturally, I rented a plane, flew up there, and spent three hours trying to cheer it up with knock-knock jokes. I was arrested for disrupting air traffic, but not before I’d apologized to the cloud for all of humanity’s pollution.
The arresting officer had to physically restrain me from tidying up my own crime scene. “Sir, please step away from the evidence. No, you can’t dust the fingerprint powder for fingerprints.”
7:30 PM: So here I am, starting this group. Consideration Anonymous. Where “no good deed goes unpunished” isn’t just a saying, it’s our motto.
7:35 PM: The worst part? The crushing realization that the world doesn’t operate on a consideration barter system. Turns out, karma doesn’t have a loyalty program. Who knew?
7:45 PM: [Long pause as I wait for questions from the non-existent audience. The silence is deafening, but I maintain an attentive expression, nodding occasionally at empty chairs.]
7:50 PM: Right. Well, I guess that’s it for today. Next week’s topics: “How to Stop Apologizing to Your Apologies for Bothering People,” “Advanced Techniques for Holding Doors Open from Impractical Distances,” “The Art of Saying ‘After You’ Until You Both Die of Old Age,” and “Why Your Therapist Hung Up: A Deep Dive into Over-Asking ‘How Are You?’”.
7:55 PM: Meeting adjourned. I’ll just stay here and clean up a bit. And maybe rearrange the furniture. And possibly repaint the walls. You know, as a thank you to the church for letting us use the space they didn’t know we were using.
Afterthought: Maybe next time I’ll consider not considering starting a consideration support group. But then again, that wouldn’t be very considerate of me, would it?
