Why am I impatient?

So this guy at work faced a software problem: the code was hanging at a certain place, he said. I won't say that he's hard to work with, but I wanted him to provide me with all the data so I could look at it "offline"; that is, I wanted to examine the evidence after the fact, rather than doing everything interactively.

So I gave him some instructions. Type script, then at the next prompt, type /usr/software/gdb/bin/gdb.sksim xxx. Then when it gets to the hang you mentioned, generate a coredump by typing generate-core-file. Then type exit until you see /this message/. Give me the path to that file.

For reasons known only to him, he kept not doing it. He typed script (good), but then he didn't type the exact thing I told him to type. I even told him the reason to type /usr/software/gdb/bin/gdb.sksim, not simply gdb, but still he typed gdb. He said "I don't know why the coredump keeps getting corrupted." This was after I told him that the stock debugger produces unreadable coredumps.

I did tell him at one point, "After I see that you have executed the correct steps, then I will look at your problem." I'm happy that I didn't go all, Look, you want help with this problem? Why do you keep doing what I told you not to??

But why was I so miffed? Why was I screaming inside? Why couldn't I just think, "He's not doing what he needs to do to be effective; when he starts acting reasonably, I hope I can help him"? and just go on and do other work (of which there is no lack)?

I think I know the answer, but I don't much like it. It has to do with what some people call the "false self." Well, "false" may be a bit of an exaggeration—or maybe not! Wendy Wright explains it well in this snippet from Exploring Spiritual Guidance (Upper Room Books, 2006; ISBN 0-8358-9834-2), about a woman who volunteered for a month in a rural setting:

This woman went with the idea of helping others, fulfilling her Christian duty by using her gifts on behalf of less fortunate persons. Her experience was exactly the reverse. A city girl, she found herself quite helpless on a farm. She had to be constantly tutored in the most gentle and compassionate way by those she had imagined she would serve. As this woman gradually came to accept her dependence on others, she became aware of all the subtle ways she had learned over the years to mask her neediness. Always having to look good was one way. Always having the right answer was another. always being competent was a third. (56)

I like being competent and having the right answer. I like being that guy who can help people solve their technical problems. But is that really who I am?

The psychologically correct answer, the mentally and spiritually healthy answer is (you guessed it), "No." The true self, as I profess to believe (and as the Church has taught for millennia), is that I am a beloved child of God, beloved not because of my accomplishments or virtue, but for no good reason whatsoever. And because God loves me, I want to be loving and kind to others; part of how I do that is by helping people learn how to approach their technical problems.

When I can keep this principle front and center in my consciousness, I experience joy and peace, and I can share that with those around me. But when I lose track of it, I become agitated, and what I share instead is my agitation and impatience.

Therefore, as the Apostle Paul said, "Brothers and sisters, pray for us." Especially if you have to work with me.