I once gave a poor man in a third world country my hat, which was new, because his was worn and ragged, and I felt it was a good thing to do. Feeling he should give me something, he gave me his old hat. I later took it off and gave it back to him because I was afraid I would get lice.
I've never felt right about that. I wished I could at least have accepted the gift gracefully, if I couldn't in the manner in which it was given. I probably made him, if only in that moment, feel wretched and low. He probably felt looked down on by others every day of his life. And for that one moment, I was the one who reminded him of it. Worse yet, he might have thought I was being extremely generous.
I once broke a person's one-hitter, which was given as a gift, with the leg of my chair on accident. I lied, and said it fell off a high dresser (onto carpet, no less). They knew I was lying, and I knew I was lying, but I couldn't bear to be made the asshole (even though I was when I didn't admit to my mistake).
I once saw a man sprawled out on the pavement, in a pool of his own blood, struggling to stay alive. All I could do for him or his wife is gather his shoes, as he lay there dying.
~Ethno