The Asshole

A few days ago, I broke up a confrontation between two women in their 60s, Flora and Cass. There was no physical violence, just threats and swearing. They were fighting over where to move a table. 

I was able to talk to Cass but Flora told me to eff off. She and I had bonded over the inanity of RFK, so I thought we were friends. It hurt when she yelled at me to get the hell away from her. I tried to respect her request, moving away quietly and calmly, but my inner dialogue quickly ramped up to a self-righteous rant: Someone at that age should know how to manage their emotions! What kind of *&^%(@# does that?! Who does she think she is to treat me badly… 

Later, someone who witnessed the throw-down came to talk to me. “I’ve known Flora since we were kids,” they said. “She lost a parent. She grew up in a bad part of the city. She’s always had to be tough.” 

I thanked them for the insight but internally I was still on my high horse: That doesn’t give her permission to act like an *&^%(@#, she should know better….

Unlike Flora, I didn’t lose a parent or grow up in a rough neighborhood. I was raised by Quakers who are still alive and taught me non-violence and self-reflection in relatively quiet, pleasant settings. They provided me with a certain value system and set of responses. A value system that was challenged by being told to eff off while trying to help.

I didn’t know how to respond to Flora other than to ride around on my emotional high horse and avoid her, since she clearly wasn’t interested in my superior approach to conflict and anger management.

The next day, I saw Flora walking towards me and tried to duck into my office. I didn’t get there in time and as she drew level with me, she smiled and said, “Hello,” and kept walking. There was no lingering resentment or follow up gruffness. She had clearly had her moment and moved on. 

My high horse stumbled. 

Sure, maybe if Flora had grown up the same way I did, she’d respond to the world in a similar fashion. Maybe. But also maybe threats and swearing fit the value system she grew up in. Maybe they were just the stress response that worked for her.

I smiled back and realized for the billionth time that anyone can be the asshole at any time. Not that I should roll over and take it just because someone has different values than me (and I’m pretty sure Flora would agree with me on this). But my values don’t make me absolutely right. Everyone has a different set of them, and different ways of reacting the life’s minor and major stressors. 

It’s not about proving who the asshole is, but recognizing that we’re all assholes sometimes, and  figuring out how to negotiate that.