Open Letters

Patience is often praised as a virtue—a golden trait that sets you apart in a world that’s always rushing. But let’s be real: sometimes, it feels more like a curse, especially when people take advantage of your cool-headed nature. I’ve seen both sides of this coin in my work and personal life, and it’s taught me that patience is a balancing act, one I’m still learning to master.

Today, I was working on a service skills evaluation project with an associate. Our job? Observe how people handle problems and report back to the company. It’s a role that demands a steady hand and a sharp eye. When the smallest thing went wrong—a glitch, a misstep—my associate lost it. Full-on meltdown mode. I stayed calm, took notes, and did what we were there to do: assess reactions under pressure. That moment reminded me why patience is my superpower in this field. It lets me see clearly, stay professional, and deliver insights that make me one of the best at what I do. In that context, patience is a virtue—a tool that gives me an edge.

But then there’s the other side, where patience becomes a trap. A few years back, I faced my first Christmas without my mom. It was a heavy time, and I wanted to make these simple “just add water” muffins—a small comfort tied to her memory. My sisters, trying to be helpful (or so they said), took the box from my hands and promised to make them “tomorrow.” Tomorrow turned into days, then weeks, then two months. They knew I’d wait. They knew I was the patient one. And that’s when patience felt like a curse—when people make promises they don’t keep because they think you’ll just take it.

By Christmas, I’d had enough. I threw what I’ll admit was a bit of a hissy fit. My dad overheard, and for one of the rare times, he took my side. He made my sisters bake those muffins, and let me tell you, they tasted like victory (and maybe a little resentment). That moment was a wake-up call: patience is only a virtue until it becomes an invitation for others to walk all over you.

The lesson? Patience is powerful, but it needs boundaries. At work, it’s my strength—keeping me composed when others crumble. But in life, I’ve learned I can’t let it make me a doormat. Those muffins weren’t just about baked goods; they were about respect, about not letting people take your kindness for weakness. I’m still figuring out how to strike that balance—knowing when to wait and when to push. But one thing’s clear: patience is only a virtue when it serves you, not when it lets others stall on your heart.

Have you ever had a moment where patience saved the day—or burned you? I’d love to hear your stories. Let’s figure out this tightrope walk together.