And I never learned to cut in a straight line, either

I’m not any good at sharing. 

It’s mostly little things: peanut butter M&M’s, the purple beads in the Arts and Crafts bucket, the good pens in the supply cabinet at work.  I hoard little things like that and sometimes I don’t even realize that I’m doing it until I have a pocketful that I hope nobody will notice.  I used to hide an extra fudgesicle up my sleeve after lunch and take the long way back to the cabin so my campers wouldn’t see.  I write my name on cans of Diet Coke in the office fridge—with one of the good pens.

I’ve been trying to keep it a secret for ten years, since I wouldn’t give Chelsea one of my crackers in the carpool ride to our tennis lesson.  She looked at me sideways across the back seat of Mrs. Doran’s truck and said, “I think you’re a bad sharer.”  There was disbelief in her voice, and defiance, as though she was being forced to taste something she knew she wouldn’t like.

I didn’t give her a cracker and I didn’t say anything for the rest of the ride.  Just forced the rest of my snack down and hid the balled up plastic baggie in one of the pockets inside my gym bag.  Ever since, I’ve been covering.  I share when asked and I try to veil any reluctance, just hope nobody reads it—selfishness—on my face. 

I think I’m a bad sharer and I don’t know how I got away with it for so long, through grade school without a “U” for “Unsatisfactory” on my progress report card, all the way into adulthood.  And now I wonder if it’s not too late to learn.  I’d have to really want to, at this point, because nobody supervises 24-year-olds to make sure they’re sharing and taking turns.  I don’t think it’s one of the skills assessed in your annual review. 

I mean, maybe it should be.

So, I have a six-pack of Diet Coke under my desk right now, and there are five people in my department.  Before I put them in the fridge, I’m going to label one for each of us and for once, I’m going to write somebody else’s name on the extra can. 

I’m going to try to be a better sharer.  I’m going to try.  What more do you want from me?

Don’t say a peanut butter M&M.