Responding when someone gives you the finger
As I walked towards my chiropractor’s office, a car was backing out of a driveway across the sidewalk ahead of me. A parked car made the maneuver more complicated than it should have been. While the car undertook a few back-and-forths, I crossed the street to avoid being delayed and to get out of their way. To be polite, in fact.
When I got to the chiro’s door, I glanced backwards. The car drove past slowly while the passenger raised her middle finger at me.
It was like an actual slap in the face. Did something in my actions to warrant their reaction. Should I have directed the backing up? Was the right response to stop on the sidewalk and watch? Not watch? Did they think the offending car blocking their exit was mine? Should I have explained it wasn’t? Should I have tried to find the person to move their car? I still have no idea what got their knickers in a knot. But I didn’t return the finger.
When did rude and aggressive behaviour become normal? (Wow, I’m getting old…)
Oh, there have been signs. Regular blog readers will know I’ve just finished 17 years practising law. Mostly I acted for housing providers and most of that work was helping them manage tenants and co-op members who didn’t live up to the community standard in one way or another.
You probably think I mean I saw rudeness from opposing counsel. Indeed, over the years, civility in the legal profession has become a preoccupation of law societies. But I’ll be honest - I never experienced it from lawyers. Mostly, we viewed cases as problems to be solved collectively with the advantage of being a bit removed from the situation. This was certainly how I tried to conduct myself and how I coached articling students: civility wins way more points and achieves more sustainable outcomes than aggression.
Regrettably, occasionally I’d encounter a paralegal - the other group of professionals licensed by the Law Society of Ontario. They came into cases with fists up, ready to rumble. I wondered whether this combativeness was rooted in the law school that is American TV dramas; the failure of the licensing process to provide the guidance and oversight of the articling period required to be called to the bar; or if it was just to level the seemingly uneven playing field between lawyers and paralegals. I tried to model more conciliatory behaviour with mixed success.
You’d expect the worst offenders in the lack-of-civility department would be the tenants and co-opers themselves, the people whose housing was often on the line. In the early years, they were notably polite. I recall one evictee who’d had a number of brushes with the law including one involving violence against a Hollywood actor. With me, she was the picture of decorum. Another tenant recognized her huge arrears meant she’d come to the end of the road with her housing and greeted me with respect throughout the eviction process that lasted many months. She call me an ‘ugly dumb fuck’ though when I garnished her and froze her out of her bank account. A reminder that everyone has their breaking point (and amusing the hell out of me).
Over the years, though, I saw people get to the ‘ugly dumb fuck’ stage sooner. I blame the ubiquity of cellphones. Everyone’s ready to record each other engaged in some transgression or another, putting everyone on the defensive all the time. As we all know, the best defence is a good offence.
I experienced this first hand a few years ago. I was helping a housing provider deal with a household who were ripping giant holes in the fabric of the community. One of their favourite tactics was to record everything on their phones. As you might imagine, this then resulted in the war of phones: ’You’re recording me? Well I’m recording you right back.’
I met with the housing provider on-site one day to coach the staff with my favourite skin-thickening message: keep your sense of humour and remember, being videoed can’t harm you so just ignore it.
As I left the office, two people were beside my car shooting video of me. My response was visceral - how dare they invade my privacy like this? My hand hovered near my pocket where my own Blackberry lay ready for combat. I reached for my keys instead and drove away heart beating faster and knees knocking.
Like then, this week’s experience outside my chiro left me ‘shook.’ And also a little surprised that it was a finger, not a phone, she pulled on me. But mostly it’s made me think about how we can live according to Jack Layton’s parting message*:
My friends, love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair. So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we’ll change the world.
* Jack Layton was a Canadian politician who was the leader of the New Democratic Party when cancer ended his life on August 22, 2011. His partner, Toronto’s Mayor Olivia Chow, released his letter to the public after he died. You can reach the full text here.
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