my snark is worse than my spite

Reverb Day 6: Despite our usually sunny dispositions and dedication to the practice of “assuming positive intent,” we all occasionally find ourselves having to deal with an incredibly unpleasant individual. While I’m sure you always handle it with the tact and finesse for which you’ve become so well known, I’m going to ask you to step outside yourself for just a moment. Think back to such a situation: if the gloves were off, how would you really have liked to have dealt with them?

I have one of those faces - you know, the one that betrays my every emotion. The one that can mask neither my glee nor my annoyance nor my disgust. It is irrelevant, generally, for me to say what I'm thinking since my face yells it loudly (though it's pretty open to interpretation, so asking what's up is still encouraged). 

And yet, sometimes what I think also sneaks out in words. I am not so practiced, in fact, at not taking things personally. I have not built a strong muscle in 'assuming positive intent.' I have been accused of using my power with words as a weapon. And, I have inherited a heritage of sarcasm that is, frankly, not all that becoming. 

So I have to say that I do not aspire to this. I do not wish to rant, or bite, or lash out. I wish to have my face, my tone, and my words reflect another me - one that rises above; one that takes the high road without feeling wounded in the process. I aspire to that. I am not yet there. 

I once has a co-worker who, it seemed, actively disliked me and tried to undercut me. I may be wrong. Maybe for 4 years she accidentally lost my emails, mis-understood my communications, and misrepresented my words. Maybe it was less intentional than the pattern of behaviour came to look over time. Maybe other people warning me about her was coincidental. Maybe her screaming at me in front of colleagues was a learning moment. Maybe saying the organization was 'just fine before I got there and would be just fine after I left' wasn't personal. 

Regardless, I wouldn't change my reaction of shaking my head, shrugging my shoulders, glaring, and walking away. I wouldn't go back and lash out. I wouldn't call her the descriptor I think best fits. She was the conduit for my leaving, for my pursuing the thing I had long dreamt of doing.

If I saw her today I would thank her* - for teaching me that you don't have to like everyone; for teaching me that you don't have to tolerate bad behaviour; and for giving me one last shove out the door right when I was wavering. Even (insert descriptor)s have their purpose. 

*That's a lie - if I saw her today I'd pretend not to see her and walk on by. Who needs the pretense?