With little effort I can summon compassion for tens, even hundreds of thousands of people I do not know and will likely never meet, who live in far-off countries I've never been to. Even when they practice religions whose tenets confound me. Even when they hate my country and, by extension, myself. Even when they actively seek to destroy me.
Yet when a neighbor lady in ridiculous platform shoes topples over in the elevator and causes a needless commotion from which I cannot extricate myself for twenty minutes which means I miss my first train which means I miss my second train which means I arrive at work late instead of early as I'd intended which means my entire morning is crap with a side of chaos, I think about my neighbor and instead of feeling compassion I imagine bludgeoning her with one of those damned shoes.
I haven't figured out the sound of one hand clapping yet, either.