I am acutely aware that I am hyper-aware of my surroundings. I constantly cater to other people’s comfort, strictly adhering to the unwritten rules of our imagined social reality: personal space and public etiquette. Because of this, other people bother me frequently.

Case in point: I was just in a spa sauna, patiently waiting for a couple to vacate the relaxation chairs so I could finally sit down. I was getting way too hot, and I just needed a place to unwind. One minute after I finally sat down, these two women came around the corner. I could immediately tell they wanted my seat because there were only two available in the entire space.

But I had just waited my turn. I wanted to sit there, and I wasn’t going to give it up.

In hindsight, maybe I should have—because they completely ruined my zen. And if there is one thing you should never do, it’s ruin someone’s zen. My peaceful state quickly devolved into pure rage as they started talking. And talking. And talking loudly in a room that completely echoes.

They weren’t speaking English, and I truly wanted them to enjoy themselves just as much as I was, but there are rules. There are unspoken, sacred rules in a spa environment: Be quiet—that’s it. The couple who had occupied the space before them were silent, completely respectful of the peaceful atmosphere. These two women, however, would not stop gabbing, and they were incredibly loud.

Look, I get it. If I were there with a friend, I would be tempted to chat, too. But I wouldn’t do it at the expense of a shared, relaxing space. Even after I made my peace with the fact that they were going to talk, I couldn’t comprehend why they wouldn’t at least whisper or lower their volume. The space was tiny and echoey; I thought they would have the basic consideration to modulate their voices.

I threw a few glances their way, desperately hoping they would read the room and get the message. I briefly thought about asking a staff member to request that they quiet down, but I ultimately decided that would be too awkward.

What makes me so upset is that they clearly came into that corner because they wanted to relax in the chairs, just like I did. If I had been given just five, maybe ten minutes of actual quiet, I gladly would have grabbed my things and left. (I know that’s a classic childhood, stubborn-child stance to take, but I’m keeping it).

Instead, I sat there getting angry. I didn’t speak up because I didn’t want to ruin their fun, but at that exact cost, they tainted my experience and polluted my peace. On my way out, I thought about mentioning the noise level to the front desk, but I backed out because I didn’t want the women to feel bad.

We cannot control other people’s behavior, but I wish they would at least be considerate. That’s all. This is exactly why I am constantly bothered by people who lack situational awareness, who fail to notice the comfort of those around them, and who neglect basic manners. I accommodate others entirely too much, and in doing so, I make myself less comfortable and less happy in the precious moments I am trying to preserve for everyone else.

As a result, I probably harbor slightly unrealistic expectations of the general public. But no one is asking humanity to be perfect—just considerate would do.