Dear Curious Christie and Ms. Resilient,
“Our office is hosting its annual summer BBQ, and I’m already feeling that familiar mix of anticipation and quiet resentment.
Every year, some folks show up with beautifully grilled ribs, colorful pasta salads, or homemade desserts that look like they belong in a magazine. And then… there are the others. The ones who breeze in with a bag of buns, a pack of soda water, or—let’s be real—nothing at all. And while no one says anything, the energy shifts. There are side-eyes. There’s quiet grumbling while arranging plastic cutlery. There’s that moment when someone praises the store-bought cookies like they’re artisanal, and we all pretend not to notice.
Honestly? It’s starting to bug me more than I want to admit. I don’t want to be that person who tracks what everyone brings like a potluck accountant, but I also can’t help feeling a little annoyed. I put in real effort—and it’s not about being thanked, but about feeling like we’re all in this together. Right now, it feels... lopsided.
How do I stop keeping score without becoming the BBQ Buzzkill?”
~ Tired of Bringing the Best Dish
Dear Tired of Bringing the Best Dish,
I hear your frustration. You show up with a homemade pie that took three hours and a Pinterest board, and someone else strolls in with a half-eaten bag of chips like it’s a contribution and not a leftover. I am sure that feels like a lot.
That said… There’s a fine line between thoughtful contribution and quiet judgment—and you’re doing the brave thing by admitting you might be tiptoeing along it. Yes, you’re putting in real effort. Yes, it feels lopsided. And also—sometimes people show up with what they can, not what we wish they would. Maybe they’re slammed with deadlines, stressed about money, burned out, or just never learned to cook more than cereal. (We all have our seasons. And our skill sets.)
This is where it helps to disconnect from the scorekeeping. Not because your feelings aren’t valid—they are! But because keeping a mental ledger of who brought what will always end in resentment.
Instead, ask yourself: why do you bring the ribs and the pie? Is it love? Is it pride? Is it just who you are? Great. Then own that. Let your effort be a reflection of your values—not a measurement of someone else’s.
And if you’re burning out on being the party MVP? That’s fair too. Rally a few coworkers ahead of time, set up a sign-up sheet, or start a playful “Top Chef” theme and give everyone a reason to bring their A-game (or at least not just buns).
This isn’t about lowering your standards—it’s about raising your joy.
With tongs in one hand and perspective in the other,
Curious Christie
Ms. Resilient offers her perspective using Dovetail Learning’s approach:
Dear Tired of Bringing the Best Dish,
Christie’s response is a perfect place to highlight Dovetail Learning’s Centering Skill of Letting Go alongside the Protective Pattern of Distrusting.
Like all Protective Patterns, Distrusting may emerge when we feel a little vulnerable. When Distrusting shows up, it’s often because something feels unfair or out of balance—like when you notice certain coworkers consistently bringing less (or nothing at all) while you’re hauling in homemade pie and ribs. Distrusting others develops when those close to us aren’t meeting our needs, and it starts whispering, “They’re not pulling their weight… and they probably never will.” That inner narrative can make you brace yourself for disappointment before the party even starts, which only deepens the sense of separation.
Letting Go doesn’t mean pretending those patterns don’t exist or forcing yourself to be okay with inequity—it means setting down the emotional ledger so Distrusting doesn’t run the show. We choose to release the tight grip of comparison and resentment so it no longer sours our experience.
Right now, you’re carrying two dishes to the BBQ: the one you make in your kitchen and the invisible one filled with “who brought what” tallies. Letting Go invites you to set that second plate down—not because everyone’s contributions are equal in size or effort, but because your own joy, generosity, and sense of community are worth protecting. As Christie suggested, you can still honor your values—whether that’s excellence, creativity, or showing love through food—without making your satisfaction dependent on others matching your effort.
It’s a skill that asks, Can I notice my feelings, choose what’s mine to carry, and release what isn’t serving me? In this case, letting go of the scoreboard might just make space for more laughter, connection, and—yes—delicious pie.
With warmth (and no tally sheets),
Ms. Resilient
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