Tiny Buddha

Tag: rude

  • 3 Important Things to Remember When People Are Mean

    3 Important Things to Remember When People Are Mean

    “Be kind. Be thoughtful. Be genuine. But most of all, be thankful.” ~Unknown

    Nobody is spared from being on the receiving end of a mean comment at some point or another. And it’s been said time and time again that allowing a mean person to get under your skin only serves to let them control you. The wiser thing to do is recognize that their comment about you is uninformed and get on with your day.

    Still, it’s far easier to know that wisdom than it is to truly feel and live it.

    I remember one instance in particular: A coworker (who I had never been fond of) had recently returned from an extended leave and was seeing me for the first time in several months. Upon encountering me in the hallway, she looked me up and down and said, “You’ve… been eating well.”

    I was so stung that I couldn’t respond. I wanted to respond defensively. Later, I wished I had responded rudely. Every time I thought about it, a new wave of sassy retorts I should have made populated my brain, and I found my jaw tensing and my fists clenching. I even wondered if it was too late to complain to HR. How dare she say something so rude and unprofessional to me?

    I was fully aware that weight is an emotionally fraught subject in my world, as it is for many people. My weight often fluctuated dramatically based on the other circumstances of my life, and I had been through the gamut of not-so-healthy dieting and short-lived attempts at fitness that many of us know all too well.

    Therefore, I was also fully aware that her comment only stung so hard because of my personal journey with weight; that she didn’t know about that journey; that she may belong to a culture or community in which “eating well” is not necessarily offensive; and that if she had judged me on some other aspect, I very possibly could have rolled my eyes and banked this as additional confirmation that yes, she is someone I don’t like.

    I was aware of all this, and yet my blood still boiled at the very thought of her.

    I decided that because this wasn’t the first time a mean comment had had this great of an effect on me, and it wouldn’t be the last, maybe I could compile some mental pointers to help me through these moments, if only for my own sanity. Here is what I came up with:

    1. Never do anything when your blood is boiling.

    Though I was speechless at first, the urge to make a mean comment back at her (if even a few days later) was all-consuming and felt perfectly justified. After all, I’m only human. Yet I’m ultimately glad I kept my cool.

    First off, being mean can majorly backfire—what if she had complained to our supervisor or decided to make my work environment unbearable in retaliation? And secondly, if I decided to reverse our roles, I would appear no better than her—the very person whose actions I scorned.

    But more importantly, I know that while emotions are important and deserve to be honored to their fullest extent, in the heat of the moment, they don’t represent our true nature and are not reliable signals. Instead, they are best expressed when paired with wisdom, which can often only be gleaned with some distance and pause.

    When I gave myself that pause and thought about it, I realized I don’t really want to be the kind of person who combats meanness by going even lower—I know I don’t believe in that. And I also don’t believe in digging deeper holes by starting an unprofessional feud.

    What I do believe is that my outer actions should align with my inner values. This means honoring my emotions with fairness and self-compassion while still maintaining external grace.

    This is really hard—it requires a lot of practice and patience.

    To start, I could process my experience of being hurt through a framework of self-love rather than a framework of spite. This could mean discussing my hurt feelings with a friend or mentor, writing about them, releasing the tension through physical activity or breathwork, or even reminding myself of all my positive qualities and assets that have the power to render one unimportant criticism negligible.

    2. Being civil doesn’t mean I have to like everyone.

    I didn’t want my silence to indicate that I was okay with, or passive to, being treated rudely. But in the professional space, where my focus is supposed to be on getting work done, civility enabled me to meet my goals and contribute to a well-functioning team. There was no reason why my relationship with this coworker had to take on any further form.

    Being civil did not translate to spending more time with her than required, engaging in conversation unrelated to work, inquiring about her life and sharing details about mine, talking to her at staff events, out of the office, or even in the parking lot; those are things I have the freedom to do with people I like. I appreciate the people in my life who bring me personal satisfaction and make me feel valuable, and I recognize that it’s a gift to find and spend time with these people.

    On the flip side, it is totally normal and possible to coexist with people who don’t make us feel fantastic and who we don’t choose to engage with, while still maintaining polite conduct for the sake of the task, event, or other item du jour.

    If a coworker’s behavior crossed into bullying or harassment, I know of formal steps I could take to advocate for myself. However, there is significant gray territory that is often inhabited by the people we simply don’t like—people whose actions we don’t appreciate, who we wouldn’t willingly group ourselves with.

    I gained a lot of relief when I understood that I have the skill and self-control to work on a professional task with someone in this category, but at the same time, I am under no obligation to welcome their presence and energy into other parts of my life.

    It was liberating and empowering to realize that treating everyone with basic civility is the wiser choice, only up until a certain point, and after that point, I have control over who I bring into closer orbit and how.

    3. You learn as much from the people you don’t want to be like as you do from the people you do want to be like.

    It’s joyful to look back and remember an inspirational teacher, friend, coach, or even a kind stranger who touched us with their positive qualities and thus impacted our personal trajectory. On the contrary, it’s painful to look back and remember people who were mean, inconsiderate, cruel, or any one of the innumerable undesirable qualities we inevitably come across. However, those people inevitably impacted our personal trajectory in much the same way.

    A great teacher of mine once said that gratitude does not mean that you are okay with everything; rather, it means that you are grateful for everything you’ve been taught. In other words, we can be grateful for each seemingly negative experience because it helped us confirm that we want something different.

    I see the potential for gratitude toward everybody who brings me into awareness of how I want to live and how I want to treat others, and that list includes coworkers making unprofessional digs.

    Nobody is perfect; just like nobody is spared from receiving a mean comment, at other times, nobody is spared from accidentally (or intentionally) making one.

    So, the next time it entered my mind to make a not-so-kind or not-so-necessary comment, I could remember what I learned from this experience and reconsider my actions.

    This reconsideration and ability to take a different course would be a tiny step toward cultivating the kinder, more considerate world that I want. And for that ability, I owe gratitude to my coworker and to everyone else who made me feel hurt or stung. They have brought me to the awareness that I desire a different action.

    Our interactions with others are unpredictable, and we never know when somebody is going to catch us off guard with a comment or action that stings or angers us. As a result, developing the ability to recognize, ingrain, and respond with some of the ideas I outlined, rather than with our initial experience of shock and raw emotion, is an arduous and, at times, unsatisfying process.

    But this dissatisfaction is often limited to the short term and fades when we do the hard work toward processing emotions. In the long term, doing the harder thing usually aligns with the more satisfying course of action and also aligns with our deeper values and beliefs on how life should be lived.

  • Why People Are Rude and Unkind (and Why It’s Not About You)

    Why People Are Rude and Unkind (and Why It’s Not About You)

    “How people treat other people is a direct reflection of how they feel about themselves.” ~Paulo Coelho

    By nature, I am a happy, optimistic, idealistic person. I have always been one to look on the bright side and see the good in people. My usual philosophy in life is that the world is full of brightness, love, and possibilities to seize.

    Recently, though, my philosophy began to fade in the face of a mild depression.

    I began to cry a lot and retreat into myself rather than being social and opening up, which only furthered the problem. I felt alone, miserable, and, try as I might, I could not regain that feeling of the world being beautiful.

    I felt like something had crawled into my brain and flipped all the positive switches off and the negative ones on. I felt hopeless, like it was more of a disease than a feeling.

    Before the depression, I was a kind, gentle, and compassionate person. Sometimes I was even too gentle, afraid to bring up anything that might offend someone else or damage our relationship.

    I didn’t understand how other people could be mean, rude, or offensive toward strangers or friends. I took it personally when people affronted me or were curt with me, believing they were truly out to get me for something I’d done.

    When people were mean, I figured it was a personal choice, that it was a conscious decision to stop caring about other people’s feelings and opinions.

    When I became depressed, though, my temper shortened and I felt far more irritable.

    I had little patience for anything, and I lived in a constant state of anxiety about social interactions. Whenever I engaged in conversation with someone else, I assumed they found me boring, annoying, or self-obsessed, and it sent me even further into my sadness.

    I started to become rude and unkind myself. I lashed out at people, or, more commonly, gave them passive aggressive excuses for distancing myself from them.

    I even became prone to insulting people as a way of protecting myself if they didn’t like me.

    I didn’t make a conscious decision to be mean. I didn’t wake up in the morning and think, “Today, I am going to hurt someone’s feelings.” It just happened in the moment when I was feeling especially down on myself.

    Most of the people I was rude to were actually friends of mine, people I liked and had nothing against.

    This is no excuse for rudeness, offensive behavior, or being unkind to other individuals. I am not proud of the way I’ve acted, and I’m not suggesting you follow in my footsteps, but it did give me a new perspective on other people I come across who are less than kind.

    When someone is rude for no reason, especially a stranger, it’s rarely a personal assault, even if you accidentally did something to irritate them.

    People aren’t mean for the sport of it, or because they are against you; people are mean to cope.

    Being unkind, more often than not, is a reaction to anger with ourselves or our perceived inadequacy. When I was rude to other people, it was because I was afraid they wouldn’t like the nice me. I didn’t mind if they were angry at the fake, unkind me, because it really wasn’t me.

    I felt unlovable, undesirable, and antisocial, and I needed a way to cope with these feelings by giving myself an alter ego that deserved to be disliked for reasons I could understand.

    When you find that people are being rude to you in your everyday life, they are really being mean to themselves.

    They have likely convinced themselves that they are unworthy of love, and that is the biggest tragedy of all.

    You don’t have to tolerate it when others are not nice, but it’s not something to take personally.

    You don’t have to internalize the meanness as a fault of your own. You can simply recognize that the person being rude is struggling with their own problems, and needs a way to cope with them.

    You cannot control the actions and behaviors of others, only your personal reactions to them.

    If you yourself are the one who has been unkind, it is time for self-reflection. Why do you attack people? What are you trying to protect yourself from?

    In my case, I got depressed because I felt socially awkward and I began losing friends. After that, I shied away from social gatherings, only augmenting the problem.

    I constantly thought negative things, such as “Nobody likes you,” “Who would want to be your friend?” and “You are not worthy of the friends you have.” I created a toxic environment inside my own head, and it wasn’t based in reality.

    I knew I had to change my outlook, so I pushed myself to see the good in myself and the reasons why I’m likable; as a result, I began to see the good in others again too.

    It’s not an easy process, and for many, it requires therapy and months of time. However, you can begin your journey back to kindness by being kinder to yourself.

    Listen closely to your destructive, self-critical thoughts. Are they based in reality, or are you fabricating them?

    If you criticize yourself because you feel guilty about things you did in the past, work on nurturing self-forgiveness, just as you’d forgive a loved one for those same mistakes.

    If you criticize yourself because you were raised to believe you were a bad person, recognize this isn’t true, and know that you can choose to heal and challenge this belief as an adult.

    Try to look at yourself from an outside perspective and remind yourself of all the unique and beautiful qualities you possess and have the ability to share with the world.

    With enough time and effort, you will begin to see the pattern in your unkind behavior and its link to your own anger at yourself.

    Once you can hone in on your feelings about yourself, you can begin to make conscious decisions to be kind to others instead of lashing out as a coping mechanism.

    I have always unfalteringly held the belief that people are inherently good, and only do bad things in reaction to bad situations.

    The most important thing to remember, whether you are receiving or giving unkindness, is that you are inherently good, too, and deserve to be loved, no matter what you or someone else tells you.

  • We All Have Bad Days and All Need a Little Kindness

    We All Have Bad Days and All Need a Little Kindness

    ”Be kind to unkind people. They need it the most.” ~Unknown

    A couple weeks back I had what Alexander would call a no good, terrible, very bad day.

    I’d slept poorly the night before—possibly because I had caffeine, which I usually avoid, somewhat late in the day, and possibly because I have a toddler-sized bladder that doesn’t seem to understand or care about REM cycles.

    In addition to being physically exhausted, I was feeling emotionally spent. I’d been dealing with a high level of uncertainty, as my boyfriend and I were preparing to move yet again, after months of discussion about where we’d live long term.

    Also, I was feeling a little disappointed with myself. I’d recently slowed my work down a bit, both to allow myself space to process my feelings related to the move and to work on some new creative projects.

    Turns out, it’s poor logic to expect that I can simultaneously allow a tidal wave of emotion to wash over me and create something completely unrelated to those feelings.

    So on top of fear and worry about the future, I was feeling guilty about “wasting time.”

    In an attempt to improve my mood, I asked my boyfriend if he wanted to get lunch, but first I needed to stop at the post office to mail a package.

    The line looked like something you’d see at Disneyland, except without the enthusiastic banter you usually hear when people are inching closer to Space Mountain.

    My patience was right there with my bladder—the size of a toddler’s—and I really wanted to leave; but the sooner I mailed that package, the sooner I could stop telling myself, “Why are you doing nothing? You have to mail that package!”

    I thought, “It will go quickly,” without any good reason to believe this was true other than wishful thinking. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

    There were three people working at the counter: one helping people with passports, one giving mail to people who were picking it up, and one working with a customer who seemed to be mailing holiday gifts—five years’ worth, to friends, friends of friends, and friends of those people too.

    I was four people away from the front of the line when it hit me—I really had to pee. But I’d already written on a padded envelope I’d gotten from their retail area. I couldn’t leave; I had to pay for it.

    Sweating, with the sun beating down on me through the window, I started shifting my weight from leg to leg, texting my boyfriend in the car to let him know I’d be a while.

    I felt annoyed with everyone—the postal workers, for not working more quickly; the other customers, for not having fewer things to mail; the manufacturer of my shirt, for not making it more breathable.

    By the time I finally got to the front of the line, I felt ready to explode. I hoped this would be quick—here’s my package, mail it cheaply, have a nice day.

    That’s not what happened.

    The woman behind the counter told me I didn’t write the city legibly, and then began to write, even less legibly, on top of it.

    Since I’m a perfectionist, and because this package and the recipient were important to me, this really bothered me—that it looked like I spelled “round” wrong the first time, then scribbled over it and said, “Yup, this looks good to go.”

    Exasperated, I told the postal worker, “That looks horrible. I don’t want it to look like I can’t spell ‘round.’ Can I just get a new envelope?”

    I ran to grab one, then looked at the winding line and panicked. What if she took another customer while I was writing, and it was someone else with a half-hour worth of stuff to do?

    Then, while pressing the pen so hard it almost broke in my hand, I heard “Next in line.”

    “Could you just wait one second?” I implored. It’s just such a long line, and I waited so long, and I’m like three pen strokes from done.”

    She obliged, equally annoyed—after all, the winding line had greater implications for her than me. Then, after beginning to process my package, she said, “You have the wrong zip code.”

    Thus began a ridiculous back-and-forth discussion about who was right—her computer, or my post-it note, backed by Google.

    I really didn’t want to have to come back, and I didn’t want the package to get returned to me—at a place I wouldn’t be living at for long.

    So finally, after arguing for a bit, while shifting from leg to leg and wiping sweat from my brow, I said, “Never mind. I’ll just pay for my two envelopes and go.”

    I hadn’t yelled at her. I hadn’t insulted her. But I’d been rude. I’d been frustrated, impatient, and impolite. I’d vomited “bad day vibes” all over her, then left in a huff.

    And I felt terrible about it.

    I returned home and emailed the recipient to verify the zip code, and it turns out the postal worker was right—the recipient had given me the wrong one. It showed as the right address in Google because Round Rock has multiple zip codes.

    I felt even worse then.

    “This was so un-Tiny-Buddha-like,” I thought. “I should be better than this.”

    Should. There was that word again. What’s the worst thing you can do when you’re having a bad day? Pile on reasons to feel bad.

    So I decided to cut myself some slack. Did the postal worker deserve my attitude? Nope. Could I have been less volatile? Sure. Would it do any good to beat myself up over it? Absolutely not.

    The next day, after getting a better night’s sleep, I went back to the post office again, armed with the correct address. This time, there was no line. I immediately saw the postal worker from the day before, rearranging some packing material in the retail area.

    “Excuse me, “ I said, “Do you remember me? I was here yesterday…”

    She seemed to arm herself emotionally, glancing at me, then quickly away, before saying, “Um, yeah.”

    “I was rude to you yesterday,” I said, “and I’m sorry.”

    It felt strange and vulnerable to say this to a stranger, but I was sorry.

    I was sorry because I imagine her job isn’t easy. And the sun was beating down on her too. And she didn’t get to run out when I did, to eat lunch, go home, and decompress.

    She was doing her job—and a good job at that—and I was sorry I treated her poorly.

    She looked at me, her body softened, then she reached out for a hug. I doubt she knew it, but I really appreciated that hug. I needed it.

    “It’s okay,” she said. “I know how it is when you have an important package to mail.”

    “I was just having a really bad day,” I said, “and you were right. I had the wrong zip code.”

    “It’s okay,” she said again. “We all have bad days.”

    Where I stood just yesterday, feeling rude and ashamed, I now stood feeling kind and proud. I doubt she knew it, but she gave me a tremendous gift. She reminded me that my worst moment didn’t have to define me.

    I could choose to do something different. I could choose to take responsibility, admit my shortcomings, and do better today than yesterday.

    I don’t know about you, but I’ve come to realize I’m a lot like that scribbled “Round Rock”—messy and far from perfect. I make mistakes. I’m not always kind or polite. Sometimes I let my emotions get the best of me. Sometimes I don’t deal well.

    But maybe these little mistakes are big opportunities. Maybe the worst of humanity can give way to the best.

    Maybe every moment of rudeness is a hug waiting to happen. Okay, so that’s kind of cheesy, and maybe a little idealistic. And I realize there are situations when people are far ruder than I was, and far less understanding than she.

    But I know next time I encounter someone who seems impolite, I’ll remember how I felt that day. I’ll remember I’m likely not seeing them at their best, and this doesn’t define who they are.

    Then I’ll look them in the eye and think to myself, “It’s okay. I know how it is. We all have bad days.”

  • Giving the Benefit of the Doubt to Rude or Annoying People

    Giving the Benefit of the Doubt to Rude or Annoying People

    “Three things in human life are important: the first is to be kind; the second is to be kind; and the third is to be kind.” ~Henry James

    Some lessons you learn once, and they last a lifetime.

    I loved to bake as a child, and one day I put a bowl of batter in the microwave with the metal whisk I was using to stir it. A minute later, I pulled the bowl out of the microwave and grabbed the hot metal whisk with my bare hand.

    When I think about it, I can still feel the burn from the metal that took several weeks to heal.

    Some lessons last a lifetime.

    And some don’t.

    When I was a little girl, we had a housekeeper for about a month. We came home one day to find that she had stolen several things from our home.

    “Mom! Can you believe Lupe stole these things?! How could she?!”

    My mom barely reacted to this news. “She must have needed them more than we did.”

    I was outraged. “How can you say that? What she did was wrong!”

    My mom calmly replied, “Melanie, you never know what someone else is going through.”

    I wish I’d remembered that lesson many years later when I was the unit coordinator of an emergency room.

    Patients, medical staff, family members, paramedics, and the intercom created a cacophony of voices. People were shouting and running, beeps and buzzers were going off, and the phones were ringing constantly.

    There was a separate phone used for patient calls. Its distinctive ring was as welcome as a hammer to my skull on this frenetic day. Just my luck, I was at the desk next to the room of a patient who called every five minutes.

    BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

    First, she called for ice chips. She needed her bed raised; she needed her bed lowered. She needed the phone, and then she needed the phone hung up.

    Every request she had was heralded by that awful BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

    I could have handled it if she asked for what she needed in a normal voice. Instead, she whined each request, as if she was at death’s door, which I’m sure she was not.

    “Ooh,” she whined, “I need the TV remote.”

    Anyone whose biggest problem is not being able to reach the TV remote has it good in the emergency room, wouldn’t you say?

    I mean, we were in a major trauma center. There were people getting CPR, coming in with gunshot wounds, or rushing to surgery as soon as they came through the door, at the same time this woman was whining about not being able to reach the TV remote.

    I thought this was my chance to help her get a new perspective and realize that really, she had it good. It kind of felt like my duty. Like I’d be doing her a favor.

    So I said, “Well, at least it’s just an issue with your TV remote. There are plenty of people here who won’t survive the night, so you’re doing well to be concerned about watching TV.”

    Her eyes grew wide with shock. Her voice softened with the awe of someone who had just been given great wisdom.

    “Wow. You’re so right. I should be thankful I’m here and doing okay.”

    I sauntered out of her room, feeling great about myself. I really did a good thing. I was like a divine messenger.

    When I got back to the nurses’ station, I decided for kicks to look and see why the woman was in the emergency room in the first place. Probably a stubbed toe or something lame like that. I looked at her chart. Heart transplant recipient, renal failure, blood transfusions.

    She was only thirty-five years old.

    I felt like I’d been hit with a brick.

    And there she was, thanking me for helping her see that her situation wasn’t that bad. That just made it worse.

    I wanted to walk in there and say, “You know what? Your situation is bad! You want some more ice chips?”

    I may not have a physical scar to show, but the shock and shame I felt after reading that woman’s chart went far deeper than the burn from the metal whisk.

    Some lessons last a lifetime.

    I still judge people. Who doesn’t? It’s like my brain receives information and immediately makes a decision about it.

    But I know enough now to remind myself that I’m only seeing part of the picture. Maybe the woman in the hospital called me into her room because she didn’t want to be alone. Maybe she was scared. I don’t know.

    And that’s the point. We never know what someone else is going through, whether it’s a housekeeper stealing from her employer, a woman in the hospital incessantly using her call button, or someone who cuts you off on the highway.

    We never know what someone else is going through.

    What we can do is give other people the benefit of the doubt and choose to show them kindness and compassion.

    I know it’s hard sometimes to feel compassion for someone who is really rude or annoying. That’s when I create a story to explain their behavior.

    The guy who was rude to me at the grocery store—did you know he just got diagnosed with gonorrhea? From his mistress? And his wife is pregnant with another man’s baby?

    No wonder he’s in such a bad mood.

    Making up silly stories helps me lighten up. It helps me remember that I’m only seeing one snippet of this person’s life. They could be longing for a breath of kindness, a modicum of compassion.

    And that’s something I can give.