Today’s post is more serious than posts prior. There’s some funny stuff in here, but be warned, there’s a more serious undertone here.
I called my friend, John, earlier. John is tied with my brother for being the funniest person I know.
I met John in high school. The two of us were deemed “Communists” due to our avid support of integrating Socialist policies in the United States, something we both stand by to this day. This nickname stuck with us through graduation.
John and I watched each other’s backs.
One time, during the walk to John’s locker, a kid confronted him in the hall, calling him “Johnny The Commie” (this sounds like something out of Leave It to Beaver, but I swear this happened). John, being 5’5 at the time, was a hair away from a brawl with a jock who was 5 inches taller than he, in addition to being muscularly jacked. Being 6 inches taller than the jock myself at the time, I was fortunate enough to be in total control of the situation. I waited until the opportune moment, which was when the kid grabbed John with both hands by the lapel on his sports coat (we went to an all-boys Catholic school, so we wore sport coats). Without a moment’s hesitation, my hands went straight above my head, arms fully extended, and clapped. Instantly, the bully’s eyes transferred from John’s intimidated face to my own hands above my head. At this point, my hands still clasped together above my head, I nailed him in his side using the side of my hip (it looked like an old dance move from the late ’80s or early ’90s).
Whenever telling stories, I try to maintain every ounce of integrity in the details I provide.
That being said, this kid went flying. I’m not sure how I was able to garner so much momentum with such a subtle maneuver; maybe it was just pure anger that was boiling up and finally exploded, but this kid went soaring across the hallway and into the lockers.
BOOM!
The sound of the bully’s body ramming into the lockers was abrupt and violent. If I didn’t witness it myself, I would’ve thought the sound was a gunshot. His back slid down the locker as his body fell to the ground in shock.
“What was that?” I hear my English teacher yell from down the hall.
Lucky for us, the hall was incredibly crowded because everybody was rushing to and from lunch.
I grabbed John by the lapel, in a much less aggressive way than the jock had seconds earlier, and dropped the old, “let’s bounce.”
I know now that I should’ve waited until the teacher showed up and confessed to what I had happened, because I hadn’t done anything wrong or unprompted, but hindsight is 20/20. We booked it to his locker and went about our day as if nothing had happened.
The bully never spoke with either of us after that. He never bothered John again, which was great, but also kind of unfortunate because I really wanted a reason to punch him in the face.
I guess the main question prompted by this story is: why are people so evil to one other?
What do people feel they gain from attacking those weaker than themselves?
People in high school never targeted me personally for physical confrontations (probably for fear of being hip-bumped into a wall and suffering a concussion), but kids physically bully each other in schools all over the world regularly.
I’ve never once in my life felt the need to attack anybody unprompted. In other words, I’ve never fired the first shot. As soon as somebody goes after me or a friend, I throw my cards on the table and dive in headfirst (or should I say hipfirst?), but I’ve never once initiated a donnybrook with anyone.
I don’t think this makes me a saint. I don’t even think this makes me a good person. All this means to me is that I’m decent. I think all people should be held to my standard of not attacking people unprompted.
I think the majority of people already live up to this standard regularly, excelling as moral human beings, but many people (especially insecure high-school kids) don’t.
We all get angry (some of us more than others), but we manage to take out our anger elsewhere. I yelled at 6 people on the phone this week. I cannot stress the “yelling” aspect of this sentence any more than I am right now. I yelled at 6 people on the phone, and it felt fantastic because they all deserved it.
Don’t attack the weak. If you do, I’ll hip-bash you into a locker and give you a concussion.
Until next time,
Michael J. Erickson, CEO & Co-Founder
