Making Nice

Yesterday I was working at my computer in my cubicle when I sensed the presence of someone standing at a nearby staircase. I glanced over to see my coworker from Inside Sales standing with tears in her eyes, staring at nothing. I asked if she needed to go for a walk, and she just nodded. We went outside.

As we walked, she described a woman's hateful treatment of her on the phone. No matter what my coworker does to try to please her, the woman has a sneering, hateful comment to deride her. The coworker feels she's tried everything and is ready to quit her job just to get away from having to work with this person.

I listened, not having anything to offer, but this:

I, too, have been a hateful person. After years of hurt and resentment for circumstances in my life, and growing up with my mom's frequent derision, I had learned all the ways to make the same cutting remarks to anyone that put me in a situation of discomfort or insecurity. I was miserable with myself, and didn't care if I made others miserable, too.

My friend was kind enough to say I was different, but I told her I was not, then. But I am now, because one day a boss looked me straight in the eye and told me competence wasn't enough in his world. In his world, it was equally important, if not more, to be nice. He put religion into me. I learned to be nice.

It wasn't easy at first. I had to bite my tongue a lot. I blundered frequently. I had to learn how to be nice. Some days I would go home so full of held back biting comments that I just screamed out my hatred to the inside of my car.

And then, one day, I recognized it for what it was -- learned behavior that had nothing to do with who I was. Way deep inside, under years of layers of walls I'd built up around my heart, I actually had a heart, and it was hurting.

Of course, I didn't tell my coworker all that. Instead, I suggested that when she had received another hateful remark from the woman, to envision that she'd just stepped in a pile of dog poo. She gasped and looked at me, as if she'd heard incorrectly. Yes, I told her. Just think "eeeyoouuu," and then mentally walk over to the nearest patch of grass, shuffle her feet in it until her shoe is clean, and walk on. She laughed; I laughed.

We went back to work.

At the end of the day, I went to our boss and confided in him the woman's ill treatment, and asked him if he would find a way to deliver the message he had given me so many years ago. He seemed delighted to take on the quest -- though he admitted it might be more of a challenge when it's someone else's responsibility.

He loves a challenge, and I know if he could succeed with me, he can succeed with anyone.

If you are a mean-spirited, hateful person, as I was, know there is a way to take down those walls and free the love in your heart. That love is your true nature. The walls are not. They are hurting you even more than they hurt others. Believe me. I know.

God's blessing to you, however you may be.