People who don’t hold the door for others should be held in the same regard as persistent drink drivers and people who refuse to pay child support.
The act of glancing over a shoulder and applying at least one finger’s worth of extension when passing through a doorway demonstrates a basic level of common decency and respect for your fellow human beings.
Inspired by the recent democratic uprisings across the middle East I decided that it was time that I too make a stand… although naturally a stand in which I negate the possibility of coming across as “unnecessary” or “overly self assured.”
I was walking behind a large man in his twenties; 220lbs of body mass and not an ounce of consideration. When he ducked through a closing doorway without any attempt to play keepy-open, I reacted instantly.
I shoulder checked the closing door, made the loudest possible bang against it’s side by slapping it with my hand and then snapped my head backwards as if I’d take the blow face first. As hands-free-door-David turned to look I was already crumpling to one knee in a style I would later feel was maybe a little too theatrical but effective none-the-less.
“OW! F*CK!”
“Are you all right there mate?” He queries, rushing to my side (and pushing the door open to do it.)
“Ah… I’m fine… fine... I just… I thought you were going to hold the door like a normal person would.”
Silence.
He was either stunned by the revelation that his entire life had been spent in the service of destroying several thousand years worth of human progress and cooperation or he thought I was being a weird little prick.
I decided to hammer the point home in one of the hammiest moments of public performance I’ve ever delivered.
Rising to my feet slowly, I check through the gap in my fingers that he’s watching closely.
“It’s just…”
The hand falls away slowly. Floats onto his shoulder blade. Our eyes lock. My mouth is straight as an arrow.
“You should be careful.”
He nods numbly.
I turn and proceed through the door, correctly pausing for a moment to see if he’s to follow.
It later occurs to me that the hyper-severity with which I did the last line might mean that he now thinks I’m a mentally unstable man with a vendetta against him.
In either case, whenever he walks through a doorway now I like to think that he glances over his shoulder. Whether that’s because I successfully made him into a better person or he’s afraid I’m following him is largely irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.