“I’m sorry you’re upset about what you think happened to you.  I really am, but now, for the sake of all of us, and I’m asking you nicely, please shut the hell up, you don’t have to go on and on trying to make me understand what you’re upset about, like you always do.  I understand– you’re upset.  I told you I’m sorry you’re upset because you think I did something that I didn’t actually do.”

The look on your face might not convince the other person you accept the apology, so they might feel compelled to add:  “and don’t tell anyone we had this conversation, it is nobody else’s business what we talk about.”

“Look, I’m sorry I don’t have your money I promised to repay today, I know it puts you in a tight spot.  And I’m sorry I won’t be able to pay you back any time soon, because I owe a lot of other people money too, and I’ve owed it to them longer so I have to pay them first.  Once I finish paying the boss back we can start talking about when I’ll be able to start paying you.  Don’t mention this to the boss, or to anybody else.”

If you agree to stay silent, or if you go right in and complain to the boss, the outcome is likely to be similar.  There are people who will urinate on your leg and tell you it’s raining.  This is, sad to say, part of the Human Condition we sometimes hear about.

“Be mild,” you tell yourself, “anger helps no-one, but be direct”.

“Don’t be direct,” a nervous person will tell you.  “Look, I admit I lied, and I know you feel it put you in a bad spot, but there was a good reason, a reason I can’t tell you because you always judge me.  I am not a liar, by the way, though I know you think I am because of that one untruth, but it was an emergency and I had to say something fast.  Who knew it would be a lie?  I didn’t plan to lie, and it was the only time in my entire life I ever did, and I wish we could be done talking about this, I don’t know why you insist on talking about it.  I already told you: I admit I lied, now I’ll tell you I’m sorry it friggin’ bothers you so much, even though it’s none of your business and had nothing to do with you.  And now, for the love of God, get over it and stop frikking bringing it up.”

The problem will be yours to deal with as best you can, don’t expect help from the people who put you in the middle of it.  After all, you’re the one with the problem, not them.

“Look, I know you think it put you in a difficult position, but all you have to do is keep your mouth shut.  The lie doesn’t even involve you, and, really, it wasn’t even a lie.  I don’t even know why we’re still talking about it, why you’re so hellbent on discussing it.  You are so judgmental, you always have been, that’s why I can’t talk to you.  I don’t judge you, even though you do plenty of bad things and constantly judge everyone else.  You’re the only person in the world who would keep bringing something like this up.  You have some kind of agenda and no freakin’ shame.”

“So you had to go talk to the boss, I see.  You couldn’t work this out like a man, you had to go talk to the boss, like a little boy with a poopy diaper.  Nice.  Very freakin’ nice.  Imagine how much of a hurry I’ll be in now to pay you your stinkin’ money back.  People like you, all you care about is money, and crying about it.”

The rain continues to pound down your leg, soak into your sock, your shoe.  It doesn’t smell like water.  What they hell?

“You want people to share in the blame for your problem, but it’s your problem, you’re the one with the problem, deal with it.  Don’t tell anyone about this, or, so help me God, I will dig up your father’s skeleton and do shameful things to it.”

Now, wait a second, what kind of sick idea….

“No, you wait a second.  The sick idea comes from you, pal.   That’s right, if you could have kept your stinking mouth shut I’d never have had to come up with methods to make you keep your mouth shut.  You know, you’ve got a lot of problems, my friend.”

A host of problems, yes indeed.  Unreasonable expectations.  They started young.

“Quit staring at me from that crib with those big accusing eyes!” said the man in the bed.  I couldn’t answer, not because I didn’t have anything to say, but I was too young to speak.  I had no idea what my father was talking about, truly.

“Oh, sure,” my mother called out, “make it sound like it was his fault, like he was the one staring at you with that challenging, angry expression.  The pediatrician said you were having a temper tantrum at ten weeks old.  Ten weeks old!  You think we are making this up?”

“I think a good pediatrician might have tried to determine what was making a ten week old infant so upset, rather than concluding that the kid was just an irrationally angry baby.  Doesn’t that make sense to you?”

They never told me if the pediatrician was a human or a jackass.  He laughed like a jackass when he saw the baby rigid, red, fists clenched and screaming.  “Wow, I’ve never seen it so young, this infant is having a temper tantrum!” and his long ears went back and he honked out a good jackass laugh.

“Oh, sure,” the ghosts of my parents as young parents would have said, “You’re the only one who’s not a jackass.”

Though I wouldn’t have phrased it quite that way, they did make a reasonable point, at least between me and the pediatrician.

My only advice when people try to make something into your problem that is not your problem– shrug that mess off of yourself and go somewhere where people don’t urinate on your leg and insist you tell them it’s raining.  

Many times every day people urinate, and  it often rains, but when it’s on your leg, and it’s body temperature, and it stinks and is some shade of yellow or brown, it’s not really that hard to know the difference, though it can take many years to learn the most productive reaction.