Does No Good Deed Go Unpunished?

This morning, I headed to the coffee shop to work on my novel. As I turned down the main road, I saw a middle-aged woman sitting in a parking lot. She was sitting on a suitcase. She was alone. There were no cars around her. Scattered about were a few suitcases, and maybe a plastic bag or two.

I have a long-held practice of asking strangers if they need anything when it appears they might. A woman alone in a parking lot with several suitcases checked all my internal boxes. So I didn’t think twice to ask.

I rolled up to her and buzzed down my passenger window.

"Hi. Do you need help?"

She didn't look up, and instead immediately fired off, "Do you?"

"Sometimes, yes," I said. I paused. "Do you need a ride or anything?" I asked.

Equally as fast, she seethed, "Do you?"

Oh.

I said, "Okay. Sorry to bother. Have a good day."

"Whatever," she said.

I drove off, and at the stoplight, I burst into tears. (This made me madder than the whole encounter, by the way.)

I wanted to drive back and park next to her. Sometimes when I am really mad, I just want someone to take a Care Bear sledgehammer and pound me with it, until I crack open and accept help, or talk about the pain I am feeling. Maybe she was like me. Maybe she just needed someone to force help on her! Ah-ha! Or maybe I was projecting my feelings onto her (more likely). Oh no.

All my internal alarms were going off at this point.

Emotions rolled up and down my body: Anger. Arrogance. Righteousness. Sadness. Fear. Guilt. Shame. Confusion. Privilege. In a span of one minute, I felt the entire spectrum of my human emotions and it was awful.

I really wanted to go back to ask her what’s up. Force my "help" on her. But I was scared of what might happen, scared of the unknown. The thing I did know: she wanted to be left alone. I had no right to demand anything from her.

I drove to the coffee shop and sat down and immediately started writing this. The phrase "no good deed goes unpunished" came up, and I muttered it to myself.

But what exactly was my good deed? I felt gross. I didn't do a "deed." I didn't do anything but ask a question. Then, when it didn’t go my way, I wanted to demand she tell me what was wrong in her life. My privilege and righteousness were exposed, and I had to look at it—or avoid it.

I had a choice.

Maybe she was waiting on an Uber.
Maybe her partner went across the street to get gas with the RV.
Maybe she escaped domestic violence.
Maybe she just committed murder.
Maybe she hated my car, my voice, and my hair.
Maybe I was the 14th “well-meaning” person to ask her.

The truth is, I have no idea.

The bigger truth: her being there was simply none of my business, and me asking her if she needed help—the intent was well-meaning, but the impact was different.

From her reaction, it appears that she heard: “You do not belong here.”

I see that now. I see her perspective. I don’t know what the circumstances were but I understand how the impact might have been harmful to her.

But I also know that I have been in a position to help many times before—flat tires, spare change, and rides to the next exit.

So what are we supposed to do? When should we mind our own business and not ask someone if they need help?

To that, I can only offer this self-learned advice from today:

• Create your own standards and moral compass, and re-evaluate it often.
• Ask yourself if you’re showing up to a situation with a bias you’re not seeing.
• Ask if your actions—even if “well-intentioned”—could be harmful.
• Do your research, stay well-read.
• Lead from a place of compassion.
• Continue to be a human.
• Until you understand a very specific reason not to do the thing, then keep doing the thing.

Maybe offering "help" will be taken wrong by a recipient. Maybe the impact of the offer is offensive in some way you don't see or understand. That’s the risk. Every time we show up to life, we risk doing it wrong. We are all first-timers when it comes to living.

I didn’t do a good deed. I just showed up to life today. I got it wrong with this particular woman. And that’s okay. In writing this, I processed my own emotions (good and bad) and learned a new perspective. Hopefully, I gave you something to chew on as well.

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For the record, however, if you ever see me in a parking lot sitting on a suitcase, I 100 percent need help. Feel free to ask me. My answer will be "definitely" and "do you have snacks?"