Say Uncle is worried about the classic traffic conundrum.
We've all been there, stuck in traffic, maybe trying to get out of a parking lot, hoping some gracious soul will let us get into traffic. It sucks to sit there while vehicle after vehicle rolls past, unconcerned about your plight, but it is your plight to watch the world roll past because you are stuck in some parking lot.
Life is about choices. It's called personal responsibility. You got yourself stuck in the parking lot. If I am driving down a road, I have a responsibility, a trust, to clear my lane so other motorists can pass. The rest of the world is behind me, trying to get home, or to work, or whereverinthehell they are going. If I don't know the person in the parking lot, he or she is lost. I'm rolling. That person stuck in the parking lot can wait till traffic clears, even if it takes all night, because my responsibility is to the other 99% of the motoring world behind me.
There are threes caveats: If my sainted mother is stuck in the parking lot, I'll pause and wave her out. If my loving father is stuck in the parking lot, I'll wave him through. My darling wife also gets a pass, else I would never hear the end of it. The rest of you are screwed. That includes my knuckleheaded brother and my dimwitted sister. They can sit in the parking lot until the cows come home.
For if I am nice to one person, yet inconvenience a thousand, have I done any good in the world? Have I endangered my mortal soul? Better to be nice to that thousand, while the one person suffers through their own choice. I didn't make them go into that parking lot. They chose to go there.
One last note, for my sisters, who I'm sure will read this post. I'll never reveal, out of love for the family, which of you is the dimwit. It is a secret I'll carry to my grave. We will not discuss this at Thanksgiving.