Prepping – The Art of Saying No

So there’s an emergency. The power is out, and your neighbor comes by to borrow a candle. It’s no big deal, you lend them one of your hurricane lanterns, so they can have light and be safe. You don’t even think twice about it. When it’s a short-term emergency, this is a standard response, and it’s very reasonable. When there is a better-than-coin-toss likelihood of replenishing your stash of any given item in the near future (“near” being defined however you like), lending or gifting is not a big deal.

If we’re dealing with a big emergency, though, this may not be the case. Suddenly, giving something to your friend or neighbor seems a lot less reasonable. You have to weigh the possibility that you may not be able to get more of whatever it is you’re lending, before you run out yourself.

It’s not easy to say no. It’s a skill, and it’s one you have to practice, as with all other skills. Unlike most of the other prepping skills, it comes with an emotional cost that far surpasses its use.

Consider this scenario: It’s the apocalypse, however you see that. You’re fairly well situated, and have “enough” of stuff that you’re not hurting. But you’re budgeting every calorie, and watching the weather to know what to do next. Your neighbor comes by and asks to “borrow” a candle. They have kids, and those kids are afraid of the dark, and she knows you have extras… Suddenly, it’s not so easy to say no. Note the kids, because that’s the gotcha that many people will inveigle into the conversation if they think it’ll get you to part with your goods.

It’s easy to say that they ought to have prepared in advance, like you did. And it’s true, the parents should have prepared. The kids, though, are not responsible for their parents’ stupidity or lack of forethought. So what do you do? You still say no.

I hate doing it. I hate saying no. I want to make everyone happy. I’m a cook, for heaven’s sake, and a writer. It’s literally my job to make people full to bursting, and entertained. When I can’t do it, I’m grumpy. In the apocalypse, I’m going to have to find my joy elsewhere, because feeding the neighborhood when there’s nothing beyond that to back me up is going to be a losing scenario.

It’s better to prep your neighbors in advance. Let them know that you don’t have many resources. When she wants to borrow that candle, tell her how to turn a can of tuna into a candle instead of handing her one. Let her know that you know how to make candles, if she has the supplies. But stop handing stuff out now, so that the neighborhood doesn’t think of you as the place to go.

Part of this is the “grey man” thing. You want to blend in, not stand out. People with a lot of supplies will stand out. This is why my family will be standing in line to get FEMA food with everyone else in an emergency like the recent hurricane disasters. I don’t want others to know we have more calories stashed than we’re getting as hand outs. It’s literally none of their business what I have in my basement.

As soon as any large scale emergency happens, you’ll get FEMA rounding up food and donations, to equitably parcel them out. We can be irritated with it, but that’s their job, so let them do it. In an apocalyptic situation, they’re still going to attempt to do it, or someone else will. That’s what government folk do in emergencies. They want to keep people in line. It’s not an unreasonable idea, but it doesn’t work for those of us with the forethought to be prepared for longer term situations.

There’s a bunch of guys out there who think they’re going to be bedding down in the forest and hunting squirrels for their dinner. They think they’ll raid and have protection rackets going to keep them fed. They’re as bad or worse than the government types. Don’t let them in. Dispose of them if you can, or hand them over to the government. Be careful about that, though, because the government may decide that such raiders make good enforcers, which puts them right back at your door. Keep that in mind when you’re protecting your preps.

Most important, when it comes to saying no, is never to say it outright. When the neighbor asks for a candle and you say you don’t have one, say it with an honest tone of voice, and look her straight in the eye. Lie. If you say no, she can know (or assume she knows) you have things you’re not sharing. You could be accused of “not being fair” and could end up with someone at your doorstep demanding entrance. Being poor and bereft, like everyone else, is the better option.

That has its own layers, though. If you don’t have a candle to share, then you can’t light your house up like the Fourth of July come evening. People will notice that. They’ll hear a generator. After a while they might start to notice that you’re not losing weight like everyone else. Be prepared to hide your lights, survive without the generators for a while, and eat quietly, behind closed doors.

Don’t be afraid to sell yourself, though. Being useful when there’s any kind of authority around is a good thing. People who have useful knowledge no one else has are valuable, and generally can name their price. So if you know how to build or fix generators, be up front about it, and be willing to work… for a price. Teach others to make themselves candles… for a share of those made. Your skills are your most valuable asset, and that’s one thing you don’t ever have to say no about.