If you do a good deed, and nobody knows, did it really happen? Spoiler: Yes.
I recently had a revelation.
Mia Freedman, in her classic, ever-honest way, told me a secret. In a meeting, she was sitting next to our pregnant Editor-In-Chief Jamila Rizvi, and offered her a glass of water. But Mia didn’t actually care if Jamila was hydrated, she just wanted everyone else in the room to witness her kindness by checking if the pregnant lady needed a glass of water.
Brilliant. Classic. Shook my head and said ‘Oh, Mia!’.
And then I realised I do the same thing.
Note for Editor-In-Chief Jamila: I’m sure Mia does really care whether or not you’re hydrated. Honest.
I buy The Big Issue for many reasons, but mainly because I want people to know that I buy The Big Issue. On more than one occasion, I have picked up a date in my car (pre-arranged, not just a random off the street to whom I pulled up and said “wanna date? Hop in!”) and intentionally left my latest copy of the The Big Issue on the front seat so he would immediately be impressed by my altruistic nature.
Disgusting. But I am so not alone.
Real generosity: Australia’s oldest man knits jumpers for penguins.
Facebook is full of good-deed-gloating. Statuses in which people attempt to be subtle, but really are screaming “QUICK EVERYONE, LOOK HOW GENEROUS I WAS TODAY!”. Here’s an example.
So. Much. Bullshit.
Good on you for giving him money and having a chat to a fellow human. But why are you telling Facebook about it? Not for Tony, he probably didn’t spend your $50 on topping up the 4G on his iPhone so he could read your status. You did it for you.
Have you ever made a status like that? Because let me promise you this: For every ‘like’ you got, at least three people wanted to kick you in the shins a little bit.