Some of you may not know me well, if at all. So I'll say it for the sake of you getting to know me--I'm a big fluffy marshmallow inside. Sure, there are strong principals in there, too. But mostly, there's a sunshine and puppy loving core that doesn't understand why people can't like each other, can't compromise, and why anyone would feel the need to be truly cutthroat.
This last year, when I've fallen into those thoughtful periods, and I'm analyzing the past (a dangerous pastime), I realize that I didn't always have enough fight in me. Take college for example. I was so busy being hard on myself and hating the feeling of ever-present judgement that I missed out--a lot. I freaking grew up on the stage of the Lyric Opera of Chicago, not a care in the world, and there were so many days I was an uncomfortable mess on stage in class. I'm veering. None of these details are important right now, except to demonstrate that there is so much evidence of my fluffy optimist parts that I sometimes forget that there is this whole other part of me that is full of incredible fight.
Today, my mom and I had a little phone scuffle. Before I could call her back to apologize, I saw she left me voice mail: "You know, you have such a way with words. You could be the most terrific diplomat or your enemy's worst nightmare, without raising a voice or a finger."
On the phone later, she expounded on this by restating: "You could take down a whole country."
At this, I laughed. And you know what, I was proud. What a great endorsement...
I've always said that the path I've chosen is hard. Anyone walking it is strong. But you know, I'm realizing the world is a pretty rough place for anyone. And I don't think anyone can get very far these days without fighting for the life they want, fighting for justice, and having the strength to persevere.
I remind myself before many events--auditions, tough phone calls, standing up to an employer--that I have a right to be tough, to fight. It doesn't make be a bitch; it makes me a survivor.
This is where we reach the moment that inspired this whole romp. Today, I'm having trouble seeing the line between fighter and asshole.
See, I had a choice to make last week. Should I choose photographer #1 or #2? Initially, it wasn't a landslide win. There were pros and cons each way. But, pretty quickly, it turned out to be one of those cases where list-making wasn't going to get me anywhere. With one person, I had been "interview Allie," and with the other, I was me--having a good time, too. And as we've learned above, Allie needs to chill the F out sometimes. So for that reason and several others, comfortable #2 took the win.
Yesterday, it was time for the uncomfortable phone call--at least for me, who doesn't like to hurt anybody's feelings--time to let the other guy know. So I put on my nice-as-can-be hat, and I called #1. Let's change the names to protect (myself) and call him Piss.
Allie: Hi, Piss. I am so sorry it took me so long to get back to you. In fact, part of the reason it took me so long was because it wasn't an easy decision. I think your work is really great, [but I'm going to stretch the truth and tell you that saving money is my priority right now.] Look, Piss, I would put you right back on my list next time, and I'll certainly refer others to you...
Piss: (snippily) Well... In that case, I need to ask who you decided to go with?
Allie: O...k... His name is Badass--Badass Dxxxxxxxx.
Piss: (He's never heard of his competition.) Oh.
Allie: Anyway, Piss, I appreciate what you've done for me so far [even though it was just an hour of your time], but this is just the decision I have to make.
Piss: (snottily) Well... That is an innnteresssting decision.
Allie: [Wtf?] Alright. Well, have a good rest of your day.
Piss: Yeah. Good day.
This left me reeling. And this is why I say I'm fluffy. Because others would brush it off. But me = reeling. Why was he so snippy? I was right, right? Boy did I make the right decision! What an ass! That was so unprofessional! Why didn't that go better? I was nice, right? And after a while, this all subsided into a normal and even awesome day.
But then, today, I got a message from Badass. Turns out, Badass got two phone calls yesterday--one a prospective client, the other a hang-up. When Badass called the new client back, he got Piss's studio. New client = Piss's lady friend. And the hang-up, you ask? Piss's cell phone. Wtf, Piss? Wtf? And, way to make me resent giving out Badass's name. Luckily, Badass is as his name implies and finds no fault with me. But Piss, to at least a few of us out here, you have earned your star as a world class ass.
Enter moral compass Mom again.
What if Piss was just using a creative tactic to find out what the competition charges and what he offers? (My mom says she's done something similar a couple of times to try to figure out what to charge for piano gigs.)
So, the question becomes: Is there any harm in asking a friend to call the competition so that you can better your business practices and not lose the next one? I think: no.
But--if you're found out--you're. an. ASS.
Assuming in this case that Piss is maybe a bit assy, or to be nicer, let's just say we're talking about assholes in general:
To an asshole, assy behavior is maybe just everyday activity. Plowing over whatever is in your way to meet your goal = justified.
But to the one on the other end (the ass-ie?) -- they feel the impact. He got a post out of me, didn't he?
So, if you want to make a point, to get through to someone, is being an ass more effective than the alternative?
I don't know.
As I reach the end of this post, I find myself wondering if I've wandered too close to a mean border. I have not intended to. I try to live somewhere well between ass and fluff -- assertive, good person land?
But honestly, I do think sometimes that it must be easier to be an ass.
No comments:
Post a Comment