HELPFUL GEORGE

George was always being helpful. Who could fault him for that? He'd probably been doing that since childhood. As the youngest of seven, with three older brothers, he was the baby of the family and lost his mother soon after he was born. Helping out the sister raising him and getting along with the brothers taught him how to make his way in life. It was a survival technique. He learned how to use it to gain control. It was a life-long tool.
Whenever someone brought up a plan or a desire helpful George jumped in. He'd do it for you. You wouldn't have to bother with that. Or he had a suggestion for a better way to accomplish what you wanted. "I'll take care of that for you" was his refrain. He used it often with my mother. He was so nice. Mother almost never ventured out from home without him. She always counted on his help for everything in life. It wasn't always that way for her, however. Before she married she was successful in her own right.
He went to work every day being helpful. He was a bank teller, helping people take care of their savings. Later on he moved up to helping other tellers do their work well, and helped the bank make the transition from hand-sorted punch cards to electronic processors. He ended his career in the same bank he started out in after High School, helping employees manage their personal affairs through various bank sponsored benefit plans.
He helped out with the Boy Scouts, he helped out in Sunday School and church affairs. As his own children moved away he helped them whenever they encountered financial difficulties. But that was it. If he couldn't help you he wasn't really interested in you. He was pretty much a closed book. He had no personal friends. He was not affectionate. Perhaps he was always helpful, but he was never there. How can virtues be so deviously disguised that we never realize how terribly handicapped we might be?