I can't believe how easy it is to be bitchy.
I have recently joined the ranks of millions as somebody who uses public transportation to get to work. My commute is long, but it's not worth talking about; plenty of people have it as bad or worse than I do, and I'm thankful to be employed. I'm in my sixth month of this, and it's become part of the daily routine to get stuck behind a gaggle of slowpoke tourists as I bob and weave to try and navigate around them.
Slow walkers have cost me a lot of time. I feel like I could go on for days about how irritating people are on the train with their newspapers, elbows, cell phone conversations, but who wants to hear that?
I was just at the Hoboken Public Library where I got a card on my birthday, almost three months ago. I finished reading Mindy Kaling's
Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?, which I thoroughly enjoyed. Thinking about my lack of reading material for the evening commute, I headed downstairs and grabbed a book from New Fiction based purely on its stately and beautiful cover.
Then I went to the checkout counter where I encountered the worst/meanest librarian who I normally see there. Most of the library clerks are awesome. Either they are sort of bookish nerds like I pretend to be, or they are young moms who probably appreciate the flex hours the HPL offers as a workplace. (I dunno.) This one lady, however, fucking hates me. I don't know why. It's not like, "oh I think she misunderstood me once and thinks I'm mean" or, "sometimes I am a bit abrupt so it makes sense," no. Let's be real, with me it's not all flowers and sunshine all the time, but I was raised to be courteous and polite, especially when it comes to interacting with strangers.
The whole scene was so perfectly choreographed it could have been directed and shot for a movie. I got called up, fished in my bag for my library card as I said, "Just checking this out." The librarian made darty eye contact, as if not sure what to do during the awkward ten seconds it took me to locate my wallet and slide the card out, then said, "Just checking out?" as if the subject had not yet been broached. "Yes," I replied, with a just barely detectable twang of what-the-fuck in my voice.
"I was just asking," she says, with that defensive tone so commonly found in teenage girls' interactions with their mothers.
Seconds later, the book was scanned and placed back on the counter halfway between her and me. Instinctively I, idiot that I am, reached for it as she hastily slide-yanked it three inches closer to her. I laughed. The scene was comical, right? Already so many moments of miscommunication so fast. But I didn't chuckle in a delightful let's-smooth-over-the-situation way, I more snorted in a typical me style of laughter. It was a happy laugh nonetheless; I was smiling as I did it, and as I made eye contact with her to see if she saw the humor too. She didn't. I genuinely thought the movement had been a joke on her part like "bad! I'm not done yet!" but instead of joining in my giggle, she responded in the most stereotypical Jersey Shore attack dog style of responding, "am I
allowed to put the due date in it?" as she opened the back cover and slid in the receipt.
I said nothing. What was to gain by saying something? Anything at this point would be insult to injury. I was thinking of words with the intentions of "lighten up," but due to statistical analysis of my own life experiences, and it having a 0% success rate of ever successfully brighten anybody's day, I decided against it.
I've been trying to think of Tony Robbins-esque principles, as in I have no idea what that lady is going through in her life. I do know in the limited amount of time I have had her presence in my life she has never been pleasant, but of course I have no clue what she goes home to. Another Tony Robbins point is the example of changing the whole situation by paying attention to an aggressor and asking them about themselves, or sharing an anecdote about your own life, something to bridge the enormous gap between the two of you. I'm not incredibly talented, nor do I have really any experience with changing the mood of the entire conversation for the better with just one line, in fact, I'm pretty talented at the opposite.
On another note, I also sit on a sales floor where there is a lot of positive reinforcement for being a dick on the phone. There is a perceived notion that power is gained when somebody bosses around the receptionist on the other end of the line so that they achieve their end and get through to somebody with deciding power. After sitting here for a while I've employed the same kind of tactic on the phone a few times at home when people act unreasonable or unwilling to help me - typically this is credit card companies. There's some truth to it, I'm not happy to admit it but I'm serious when I say that being condescending or having a tone of anger upon repeating yourself tends to yield quicker if not better results. But those are never the campaigns that last with our company - the good campaigns are built on rapport and comfort, not dickiness.
I am still definitely of the persuasion that you get more flies with honey than with vinegar, perhaps if only because it is better for you in the long run. It is not worth your or anyone else's sanity to flip out over slow walkers or incorrect fees, or whatever the matter. Yeah, it sucks. But it's a reality, and everyone's working hard. I just don't see what the problem is with smiling. Just be nice. What is the harm done to you? Smile at people. Say "thank you."
I left the library saying "have a good one" in my weak Robbins-ian attempt at shifting the mood. It was half-assed, though, since I didn't truly believe it would change anything. I'm working on my Tony Robbins.
Like Barnabas at Geneseo, stay happy! What is the point of being unhappy?
