My friend Paul and I were sitting in the Pow Wow a few weeks ago when we spied a mutual friend looking for a place to sit down.

“Hey Pete.” A voice called through the Pow Wow room, filled with a noisy lunchtime crowd.

“Oh, Paul, didn’t see you. How’s it going man?”

“A bag of potato chips, a Twinkie, a candy bar and a large Coke. What a nutritious lunch.” Paul laughed.

Pete shrugged. “I would get more but I’m broke and I just want to grab a snack before I get back to work.

“Studying for those finals, eh?”

“Finals, what finals? I got two humongous papers due the same day. It’s a conspiracy, I tell ya.”

Paul laughed again. “And you, ever the procrastinator. Waited to the last minute again, huh?”

Pete bit his lip and nodded. “But hey,” he shot back, “this has been a busy semester.

Paul finished the last of his hamburger, wiped his chin and shook his head. “You have an excuse for everything, you know that?” he said.

Pete was taken back. “What do you mean?” he asked in a rather hurt tone of voice.

“What I mean,” his friend replied, “is that every time you have something important to do, you blow it off.”

“Now wait a min…”

Paul cut him off. “You moan and groan, blow it off and it’s usually me that winds up bailing you out.”

“What?” Pete’s voice started to rise—in pitch and in decibels.

“Well, who was it that typed your term papers last semester?”

“You, but…”

“And who practically wrote your computer programs when you were failing COBOL?”

“You, but…”

“And who was it who loaned you his notes all those days you skipped class with a hangover?”

“You, but…”

“There’s no buts about it,” Paul said emphatically, “You have to get your stuff together if you want to ever make it at this place.”

Pete hung his head. It was obvious his friend was getting through to him. He tried taking a bite of his Twinkie but couldn’t. His appetite was replaced by guilt.

“I don’t want to sound like a lecturer,” Paul said.

“Well, you do,” Pete replied.

“Understand this, dude.” Paul leaned over the table. “I wouldn’t tell you this if I didn’t think you’d listen. Just straighten out a bit. I try to help but it’s only because you’re my friend and I want to help you out. It can be really hard getting things done at this place. Eveybody needs a helping hand once and a while.”

“Well…,” Pete started to say.

“But you’ve grown to depend on it,” Paul interrupted. “You expect that help to be there always. It’s not. One day I’ll be gone and you’ll be out there, or out here still, and there won’t be anybody who cares whether you pass, fail or whatever.”

Pete, by now, was crestfallen. “I’m sorry, man,” he said meekly, “I just didn’t realize. I owe you a couple.”

“No, you don’t owe me anything,” his friend replied. “It’s just … well it’s hard to care about you when you don’t.”

I remained silent through this conversation, which lasted all of five minutes. But in that brief time I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty myself. Paul had helped me on numerous occasions too. He’s just one of those guys who is always there to lend a hand. It’s too bad that guys like him are often taken for granted.

Pete got up, said, “Take it easy,” and walked out. Paul only shrugged and said, “I wonder, Mike, if anything I said got through.

As we rose to leave, Paul reached for his tray to take it to the trash can.

“Oh, allow me,” I said quickly.

It was the least I could do.