I have been trying to figure out how to explain to a friend why people get so mad at her when she helps.  She thinks people are just ungrateful.  (note: yelling at her to mind her own damn business is not "ungrateful", it's "totally pissed off")

Name changed to protect the guilty, here's a dramatization of  asking Mona to do you a little favor.
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You're hanging out with some friends, and talking about things to do, when Mona mentions that a friend of hers has this big portable grill that ten people could cook on at the same time.  You know a lot of people who think they grill the best burgers, and think it would be fun to have a cookoff in your back yard.

You say to Mona, "Could you ask your friend if I can borrow or rent that grill? I could set up a really fun weekend for everybody!"  She says she will ask.

You and your friends talk about this for a bit.  Everybody has ideas... maybe get a band, or belly dancers, a beer fountain, hire Chef Ramsey, ha ha... not really planning, just tossing ideas around.  Then conversation moves on.

When you get home, you look up all your grill fanatic friends, and tell them about your cookout idea.  They like the idea, and if you can get the big grill, are eager to come have a good time. 

You don't hear back from Mona for a few days, so you text her:

          Have you talked to your friend yet about me borrowing that big grill?

Plans have been falling through, but I found some performers.

          What?  I was asking about that big grill.  Is your friend willing to lend or rent it?

Oh, I spoke to him the next day,  he loves the idea, but he's so busy with this lawsuit about his neighbors' claim that he had sex with their cat, and the jugglers are vegan, but I'm sure we can work it all out, I'm going to look at the grill tomorrow.

          Ok, whatever you're planning sounds interesting, but I need to talk to this guy about the grill.

We're going to look at the grill tomorrow, you can come if you want to

By this point in the conversation, you are filled with a creeping dread.  Who is "we"?  What has Mona been doing and saying in your name?  Did she take all that batting ideas around seriously? Is Chef Ramsey going to turn up in your yard?  Why didn't Mona tell you right away that her friend was willing to lend you his grill?  WHAT IN MIDAS' GOLDEN BUTTHOLE IS GOING ON?

After much texting, and some phone calls, and mysterious paragraphs about her friend's lawsuit, and what really happened with the neighbor's cat, you extract contact information from Mona, and call the guy, now two weeks later.

          "Hello, I'm the person Mona spoke to you about borrowing your portable ten person grill."

"Oh, the grill isn't portable.  It's set in concrete behind my restaurant."

          "I see.  Sorry to bother you then, there has apparently been a misunderstanding."

"So you don't want to rent it after all?  If $2000 for the weekend is too much, we can work something out."

          "No need, it's not really suitable for what I had in mind.  Thanks for your time. Bye."

You disconnect the call with the quivery feeling of having climbed out of an arroyo just before the flood came down.  To make sure you are safe, you send one more text to Mona: I AM NOT HAVING A COOKOFF.  I DO NOT WANT TO BORROW YOUR FRIEND'S GRILL.

Later that night, as you are sinking into exhausted sleep, the full terror strikes you.  Sitting bolt upright, you wonder, what if you hadn't followed up?  What if, not hearing back from Mona in the first place, you simply decided to do something else?

What if she hadn't been stopped...

And Mona wonders why people scream at her.  

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