The sharp remark can wait

At a long family iftar, two impulses usually arrive within a minute of each other.

The first is the cutting remark. A cousin says something smug about money, or a brother retells a story in which he comes out looking better than he did. The reply forms itself, quick and well aimed, and the pleasure of saying it is right there.

The second is quieter. Across the table sits a father-in-law who has not been himself since he retired. Someone should ask him how he is actually doing, not the polite version. Someone should offer to drive him to the appointment he keeps putting off.

Most of us handle these the wrong way round. The remark goes out immediately, because it feels urgent. The kind thing gets filed for later, because it feels like it will keep. A week passes, then a month.

There is a simple swap available. Treat the sharp remark as something you will say, just not yet. Tomorrow, perhaps, if it still seems worth it. It almost never does. Treat the useful thing as the one that cannot wait, and do it before the tea is poured.

The same swap works away from the table. The angry reply to a customer, the discount offered out of panic, the treat bought because the day was long: all of these survive a delay perfectly well, and most of them dissolve inside it. The call to the supplier who helped in a bad month, the thank-you to the person who recommended you, the honest fix to the thing customers keep mentioning: these lose value with every day they wait.

Later is a good home for whatever we would regret. Now is the place for whatever we would be glad we did.