I spent Sunday helping a friend move a shed. As I said at the end of the day, “as long as nobody wound up injured, it’s fun.” And it was. We disassembled a shed and moved the components to his back yard. Shed re-assembly is going to be a summer project for him. But now I’m in the realm of awkward favours.
Because the deal was we spend a couple of hours moving the shed. We move it in a trailer he’s borrowed from his folks. Then we do a lumber run for stuff I need for projects for this week.
The shed move took eight hours, not a couple. It was a complicated shed. And now I’m in awkward favours territory. Because it’s kind of a pain to get this trailer. And the whole “get lumber” thing was phrased as “why don’t we move the shed, and then make another run up to the lumber place,” not, like, a contract. And the day did involve a trip to a hardware store where I picked up a few things as well as the stuff needed for the shed move. Just not the stuff I need.
So I don’t know if I should press for the favour now. Awkward, right?
Awkward favours are awkward because I make them awkward.
I know this. This isn’t a mystery. I’m the problem here. Just nutting up and asking for the favour would be way easier than agonizing over it. But that’s me. Being awkward.
At the end of the day, there’s an inconvenience factor of taking the bus, plus $25 to rent a van. It’s not a big deal. I’m just making it a big deal because that’s HOW I ROLL.
So the conclusions here are: 1. nut up and ask for the favour; and 2. not make it a big deal either way. Let’s go, Team Awkward.