My mother was not good at asking for help. She was stubborn that way, and so am I. It’s a hard habit to break. Recently I got some practice.
Some months ago, I introduced a Husband Benefits Pie Chart [1], a 2-step system I devised while waiting around for the perfect man to show up. The first step is fantasizing about the advantages of an ideal spouse, and the next step is finding them elsewhere. A recurring item on my fantasy list is a husband to lift my luggage into the airplane’s overhead bin. I’m a delicate 5’3″, so it’s hard for me to bench press my suitcase. Since I hate to check luggage, I learned to pack light. (It’s amazing how many pairs of shoes I can get into a 20” carry-on.)
As I was about to return home on a plane trip last month, my back went out. I could hardly stand up straight, and there was no way I’d be able to maneuver my bag. The only solution was asking a stranger to do it for me. I know it’s not such a big deal, but I obsessed on the way to the airport, rehearsing the request in my head. As we boarded, I scoped out the sturdy people standing near me, to see who might be willing to do the heavy lifting. It was not a direct flight, so I had to ask 4 times. Up. Down. Up. Down. Without exception, people couldn’t be nicer. They were happy to lend a bicep or two.