My stories with Steve are ones of trial, aggravation and simple social bafflement. Here is the first of my encounters.

Meandering Steve: (Walks casually up to the door behind me.)

Robert: Hey, Steve. I see you are coming up behind me. Let me get this door for you.

Meandering Steve: Wow, thanks! Let me run to it to save you time!

Robert: No, man, you really don’t have to.

Meandering Steve: (Runs.)

Robert: No, seriously, man, don’t waste the energy.

Meandering Steve: It’s the least I can do, friend! You’re so nice!

All right, Steve. Let’s talk about what you’ve just done here. I’ve just taken many aching seconds out of my day to hold this door open for you and convenience your life in a minor but really kind of uplifting way, depending on your mood. You’ve responded in what you think is reciprocated kindness. All you’ve actually done is inconvenience yourself by forcing yourself into some awkward running maneuver.

Your worst quality right now is you expect me to feel gracious that you’ve caused us both to be burdened. Neither of us is better off than we were before. I’ve lost those aching seconds I was talking about, and you’ve lost crucial energy in your legs and core. Don’t you feel silly now?

And let’s talk about the social repercussions. If millions of people are sitting around all the time opening doors for unappreciative Steves, those are countless hours of productivity we lose as a country. Think of the technological and social advances we’re losing because of you, Steve. Possibly flying cars and the end of racism. What if Pheidippides hadn’t the endurance to run his marathon to Sparta because he’d been wearing himself out bounding through doors all day? That’s some heavy stuff.

You can see, then, the far-reaching effects of your inconsiderate nature. The close-reaching effect of it is I’m annoyed with you. Stop it. Take the kind gesture and walk into the building in peaceful repose. The thought of your rising blood pressure pains me.

Metaphors. Let’s talk about metaphors. Those are easy to understand. What if I worked really hard to do all your homework for you like you asked because you were so sick? What a nice thing. Then you decided you didn’t want to plagiarize, so you went and redid all of my work anyway. No one thinks that’s a cool move, man. Maybe the university provost does. I don’t know.

Or how about this, it’s like if I was a duck, and I built you an airplane, and you were so grateful that you refused to accept my gift. What am I going to do with an airplane, Steve? I can already fly.

Your running is also the least impressive thing I’ve seen today. It’s not really even running — more of a hopping walk, some kind of prance. You kind of look like you’re dancing. You’re not even moving any faster than before, I can plainly see. You are fooling no one.

You are making me look like a fool, though. I can feel the sneers of passersby laughing at those two inept buffoons and their embarrassing inefficiency. It shatters me, and it’s all because of you.

I was having a good day before you ran into it. Walk through the next door and we will salvage this precious dignity of ours. Do that jogging thing again, and there will be no future for the doorway aspect of our relationship. I mean it.