Can I help?

Apparently there's something about me that says "I know where you want to be." Something about me that isn't even visible.

About a year ago, a friend asked me in an email if, because I work in the information profession, I end up with many people asking me for directions frequently. I said no because it didn't seem to me that I was asked often enough to make it unusual; afterall, I live in Cambridge which is a tourist trap in the summer. Something strange has happened in the last year. It's possible that I'm just more observant of my direction giving, but I think there's something more to it.

Twice in a little over three months I have given directions to someone that has rung my doorbell because he/she/they have somehow made it to Ekin Road but that's not where he/she/they want to be. The first time was when students that I recognized as frequenters of my library (and they recognized me as library staff) had been dropped off by a taxi to the completely wrong road. Tonight, an Italian language school student had wandered off the beaten path in search of the home he is staying in. The first time, I directed them using a map and hoped they made it to their destination; tonight it was just easier to put on my shoes and coat and walk him to the correct road since he had no understanding of where he was. I have also encountered numerous other language students in need of directions to the right road or the nearest bus stop. And it seems that a lot more people have come to my centrally located library to get directions to other places on campus.

I like giving directions. It makes me feel useful and helpful. It does seem frustrating, though, that I can't get delivery people to find my home but strays have no trouble. What is it about me and my home that says "I can help."?