I’ve always taken pride in being the guy people could count on—Mr. Reliable, the calm in the storm, the one who didn’t flinch when a deadline loomed or something needed to be done on short notice. I never minded being that guy. I still don’t, at least when it comes to work assignments. I get a rush of adrenaline when someone needs seven hundred words of clean, self-edited copy by 5 p.m. and it’s 3:45.
However, that attitude (mine) can sometimes manifest outside of work, and that is when and how I have come to realize there is a fine line between being dependable and being used. And once that line gets crossed, it’s hard not to feel like the safety net people remember only when they’re falling. Lately, that realization’s been sitting with me a lot as I continue reflecting and recalibrating several things in my life. A guy texted me and asked to borrow $100 this week. I didn’t say yes. I didn’t say no either. I asked a few questions, offered some alternatives, and suddenly he vanished. This wasn’t the first time he asked to borrow money (so far, he has a perfect record for quickly paying it back when he said he would). What I did notice is the amounts were getting larger: first it was $10 (no problem) then $20 (okay, but internally I knew I wouldn’t do it a third time because he was asking for the second straight week and I was getting jittery), then it became $50 the very next week (a pattern has developed and I said no), and now we were up to $100, which is getting into some serious coin. If I said a definitive yes, at this rate we’d hit $200, $500, and eventually $1,000. The other thing I noticed and that pissed me off was the presumption that I would do it. I need to borrow $100 this week; my rent went up, and I’m between paychecks LOL. You’re a good man for doing this. No ask, just the expectation along with false flattery, and that annoying LOL; like hitting me up for another loan was amusing. You’re a good man for doing this. Nice try. So, I am not a good man if I don’t do this? This is when I suggested alternatives such as a credit line, borrowing on his credit card that I know he has (yeah, that sucks with the instant interest but so be it), and asking someone else.
People will find you if you’re naturally helpful, easygoing, or just not in the habit of pushing back. They’ll show up when their backs are against the wall or when they want to avoid responsibility and frame it as a need. But the problem isn’t always the request itself. It’s the expectation and attitude that you’ll say yes, again and again, because you usually have. And if you stop, they try to make you feel like you’re the selfish one. At first, being the “go-to” feels like a compliment. You’re trusted. But give it enough time, and it starts to feel like you’re a spare tire—forgotten until the flat.
Here’s what happens when you’re always the “yes” person: You get tired and frustrated.
Eventually, you get angry at the people taking advantage of you and yourself for letting it happen. You start resenting the very people you once wanted to help. You stop answering texts and dread unread messages. You flinch when someone says, “Hey, quick favor …” And you realize, painfully, that being nice isn’t the shield you thought it was. Sometimes, it’s a target. It took me years to unlearn the reflex to say yes and to realize that I could still be a good, reliable person without being available 24/7 or a walking bank. Now, I ask myself a few things before I respond to a request: Is this a real emergency, or just someone else’s lack of planning? Am I the only person who could help, or the easiest one to ask? Will helping leave me resentful or drained? And if the answer leaves me unsettled, I don’t rush in. Not anymore. I’m still reliable but on my own terms.
If you’re the one people turn to when their world’s on fire, don’t lose that part of yourself. But don’t burn out trying to put out every flame, either. Some people don’t want help—they want relief from the consequences. And they’ll drain you dry if you let them. Help when you can, but set boundaries when you must. And remember: you don’t owe anyone your peace just because they’re loud about their panic. You’re not selfish for saying no. You’re just finally taking care of yourself.
John Berkovich Talks 