“Learn to say no; it will be of more use to you than to be able to read Latin.” (Charles Spurgeon)

I learned something about the word “no” from a FedEx guy.

Decades ago, when I was younger and a woman in her prime—enough to encourage a little extra flirting—I briefly worked in NYC’s garment industry. A FedEx deliveryman came in every day as part of his route. He was pleasant, funny, and increasingly flirtatious.  Not in an objectionable way, just enough to make it clear that he was interested. One day, he asked me out.

My immediate response was to smile while my mind went into diplomatic overdrive. I was already constructing some elaborate explanation designed to politely convey that I wasn’t interested. While my brain’s internal drive was trying to come up with a reason that would make me sound as though I was a graduate of Miss Porter’s Finishing School, and my eyes were darting about, the FedEx guy looked at me with a smile and said, “It’s okay, Karen. All you have to say is ‘no.”

And there it was. A consonant and a vowel. No apology required. No stammering. Three simple words would suffice: No, thank you.

He wasn’t offended. He wasn’t wounded. He didn’t need a prolonged essay clarifying my decision. He simply understood that I wasn’t interested, and apparently had enough emotional maturity to survive the word no.

It stuck with me. It also took me somewhat longer to realize how often I had been saying “yes” when what I really meant was “no,” all because I was trying to be polite. It’s the affliction of resentful people-pleasers far and wide.

Admittedly, some no’s flow easier than others. Should a former lover who unceremoniously dumped you years earlier contact you out of the blue and ask if you’d be willing to co-sign a car note, that’s a fairly straightforward no, likely followed by a few other succinct words. But for the reluctant bride or groom heading to the altar, every cell in their body screaming, “I don’t want to do this,” the no is considerably harder to verbalize. Fear, shame, and the weight of everything that has led them to that moment can bury the word so deeply that it makes those simple two-letters feel impossible to utter, even when it’s the only honest answer.

I used to think being a good person meant being accommodating. I thought kindness required explanation, consideration required compromise, and saying no without a sufficiently compelling reason was somehow rude. Eventually I discovered that some people will happily accept everything you are willing to give them without ever wondering whether they are giving anything back.  I’m grateful to say, these days I say no with ease.

“No” is a complete sentence. 

To the FedEx guy who crossed my desk so many years ago, I may not remember your name, but I remember your pleasant smile, your self-assurance, and the wonderful simplicity of “no” you taught me. Here’s hoping life has given you many terrific yeses along the way.