Because I have low self-esteem, I demand recognition when I do things that most people consider to be ordinary activities of daily living and just plain civilized behavior. I expect to receive a compliment whenever I  put my dirty dishes in the sink or wash both of my hands after using the bathroom.

I’ll ask Ethan, “Did you notice I’ve been putting my dental floss in the garbage?” So you can imagine my disappointment when I was not chosen as Volunteer of the Month at work today and went home with nothing more than a breakfast burrito and a deflated ego.

Instead, Megan was awarded the prestigious title, the 8×10 certificate and the movie vouchers: Megan. I like to pronounce her name Meegan because that’s what I do when I’m threatened by someone — I mispronounce their name.

Though she’s six years younger than I am, Meegan is a senior at the university, while I’m only a junior. Meegan is also competing in a beauty pageant, and she’s a finalist.

One day she came to work without the avalanche of beautiful hair that usually escorts her head around town. When I asked her about it, she let me know that she had cut it all off to donate to cancer patients.

Touché, Meegan.

Immediately I started thinking of ways to one-up Meegan. I could come into work with my legs tucked beneath me in a wheelchair. I would act casual, and when she asked me about it, I would nonchalantly reply, “Oh, it’s nothing. I donated them to diabetic amputees.”

I could show up with bandages over my eyes and explain that I had given them to a blind homeless man so that he might have a chance at a full life.  Or best yet, I’ll tell her good luck and goodbye; I’m donating my heart to a sick puppy because I just can’t stand to see any living thing suffer.

Meegan loves Dutch Brothers for the very same reason I hate them. She seems to be constantly posing and she baby-talks — all reasons I should have been awarded the Volunteer of the Month award.

Ethan says I’m too critical. He says I complain often and that it gets tedious to hear me be so negative about people all the time.

I had thought that he was exaggerating, and if anything, that this was one of my most endearing qualities. But today I found out, through the genius of computer spyware, that my most frequently used word when communicating with friends is stab.

How can one fancy oneself worthy of respect and adoration as a pillar of one’s community when one’s most frequently used word is stab?

I suppose I need to do a better job of pointing out when I am not being maladaptive, negative or threatening.

“Hey, you notice how I didn’t tell Tracy I was going to stalk her? Pretty good, huh?”

“You  see that? I didn’t punch or kick just now. Boo-ya!”

“Guess who didn’t smell your dirty laundry while you were out?”

Then maybe I’ll finally get the recognition and the certificates I deserve.