I once knew this guy, my grandfather\u2019s friend. When I was a boy he came by to visit every once in a while and he and my grandfather would sit out on the side porch and drink iced tea, talking late into the night. My grandfather\u2019s house was in upper Silver Spring, MD, on a heavily wooded acre and a half. Deep into a neighborhood bordering the Northwest Branch \u2013 a forest preserve with a river running through it \u2013 night at my grandfather\u2019s place was deceptively rural. At night, the sense that we were in the bustling suburbs of DC would fade away to country darkness, full of the sounds of animals lurking through the shadows. My grandfather and his friend would speak in low, hushed voices.
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We\u2019ll call him Sam. He once pulled me aside and gave me what he said was the only advice I\u2019d need.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow old are you now?\u201d He asked.<\/p>\n
I answered that I was 12.<\/p>\n
He nodded. \u201cIn a few years you\u2019ll be part of the workforce, kiddo. When I was 12, I wish someone had told me what I\u2019m about to tell you. Ready?\u201d<\/p>\n
I nodded.<\/p>\n
He told me that, when I became a cog in the wheel, wasting my life year after year in some \u201cgoddamned corporate hellhole,\u201d I\u2019d have to learn how to get along with the mindless chumps all around me, and the \u201chalf-brained peacocks\u201d who would be my bosses. His technique was simple: Instead of telling these people to fuck off and die, he\u2019d only say nice things. But, of course, he would really be saying the bad things in his head.<\/p>\n
He struck a dramatic pose and said, \u201cWhen some cow is telling me about her stupid kids, I give her a big shit-eating grin and say \u2018Faaaaaantastic!\u2019\u201d He bent down to look me in the eyes, \u201cBut what I\u2019m really saying to her is that she\u2019s a fucking stupid, smelly cow and her kids can go jump off a cliff for all I care.\u201d<\/p>\n
He posed again like some strange ancient orator. \u201cWhen the boss says I need to get my shit together, I say \u2018Yyyyou betcha, buddy!\u2019\u201d Then, again, he looked down at me. \u201cBut what I really mean is \u2018I hope you get cancer and die so I can take a dump on your headstone.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n
My grandfather asked me, after Sam left that night, what he\u2019d told me. I repeated Sam\u2019s advice and my grandfather laughed. \u201cThat\u2019s Sam. And that\u2019s some good advice!\u201d He patted me on the head and told me to go play my video games.<\/p>\n
Sam\u2019s long dead now. Shortly after he died and we went to West Virginia for his funeral I was struck that nobody from his family showed up. I knew he had a wife, though they were divorced, and three kids. But none of them showed up at his funeral. <\/p>\n
\u201cOh, they hate him.\u201d My grandfather said at the bar afterwards. He said how Sam\u2019s coping methods for the office actually filled his life. He wasn\u2019t able to ever say anything nice to anyone because, in his mind, it meant the opposite. He didn\u2019t praise his children, he never complimented his wife. <\/p>\n
\u201cHe thought,\u201d my grandfather told me, \u201cThat it would be dishonest to be kind to them.\u201d<\/p>\n
I suggested that such behavior was, frankly, insane, and now sad that it ends like this. <\/p>\n
\u201cFamily ain\u2019t what it used to be,\u201d my grandfather said. \u201cWe\u2019ve forgotten how to be loyal to each other, no matter what we say and do. If his wife and kids couldn\u2019t hack it, then they don\u2019t deserve to know Sam.\u201d<\/p>\n
I briefly took Sam\u2019s advice when I entered the working world. For over 20 years I worked in the customer service industry. There you almost have to adopt Sam\u2019s policies. You can only say nice things, even when the customer is threatening your life. The things customers have said to me over the years are astounding, inhuman, cruel. Yet if I ever spoke up and defended myself, I\u2019d get a demerit. I\u2019d be hauled out on the carpet and my boss would force me to listen to the call and tell me that it\u2019s poor customer service. How dare I speak back to someone who said things like \u201cI hope you die and rot in hell\u201d and \u201cI\u2019m going to come down there and blow your goddamned head off.\u201d How dare I take offense to these things and speak out! <\/p>\n
I\u2019d nod and say, yes, sir, I\u2019ll do better. But I wouldn\u2019t mean that.<\/p>\n
The more I did that, the more I felt the anger in me fester, boil, and then harden into something that could never be chipped away. It took a long time to realize that I had to stop, get out of the service industry, learn to let go of my anger. <\/p>\n
I\u2019m still practicing. Slowly, I\u2019m starting to mean what I say. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I once knew this guy, my grandfather\u2019s friend. When I was a boy he came by to visit every once in a while and he and my grandfather would sit out on the side porch and drink iced tea, talking …<\/p>\n