That is the genius of the free market. To a lesser extent, republican government has instituted the same mechanism. If we do not approve of our leaders’ policies and programs, we indicate through petition, redress, and assembly. If the political class still refuse to listen, then we can vote them out of office and replace former leaders with more candid candidates. Whatever may be going in life, from the workplace to the public square, from the family room to the boardroom, do not get used to abuse! I tutored a student of about a month. From the first session, it was clear that the father was run by the son. He dictated when tutoring was supposed to end; he whined when he did not get his way. The father was complaisant (and complacent) in part out of pity, because he had adopted his son two years ago. This young man had endured some terrible things in his life, from abuse to neglect, to the uncertainty of not having his own guardian. As an insidious way of making up for life’s inherent unfairness and tragedy, the adopted father was letting his new son have his own way. This is not love. We all regret the evil that befalls many, but that cannot justify one man perpetrating evil on another. We have to learn to address our hurts and fears while respecting the rights of others. After two more sessions of back-and-forth bickering between father and son, I found myself sitting at the dinner table in the father’s home, waiting for the son to finish something. Ten, then fifteen minutes later, and I was still waiting. Finally, I had had enough, and I confronted the son. “Listen to your father. It’s time for tutoring.””No, I don’t have to listen to you! You’re not my father!”As if he would listen to his father. I then told his father that I was not going to wait any longer, and I left. When I called the director of the tutoring company, she congratulated me.”Good for you. You did the right thing. Don’t put up with abuse.”I was glad that the supervisor supported me. I have had other dustups with individuals who have permitted themselves to be abusive. The secretary at one of the local high schools has a terrible reputation. Caustic, cold, cruel to the point of incredulity, she vents at anyone who asks her a question. Often she will not even give staff members a passing glance when they ask a question. When I asked to use the office fax machine, she snapped at me”Only I touch it. You have to ask me.”I mustered up the courage to ask. “Are you usually this curt.””You have to be.” Is this not the rallying cry of all abusive people? “I have to do it this way. I do not want people to take advantage of me. I have to hit before someone hits me.” Someone has to stop this insanity. We have to teach one another how to treat each other.”Those are the rules,” she then added.”And whose rules are those?” I asked.”Mine.””Well, I don’t care,” I answered back. “You do not have to be rude to me.”She got a little testy, “Alright, we’re not here to talk about me. . .”Yet her abrasive manner is the focal point of her every interaction. What else could one talk about? She did manage to fax my letter, not without some slip-ups. Angry people used to make me so nervous. Later on, things would heat up. Before every day, I had to sign in to get paid. She was gruff as usually, even snapping at me. I had had enough of this nonsense. One morning, I walked in, picked up the keys for the day, and headed for the door. She calmly replied, “Aren’t you going to sign in?””I’ll sign in at the end of the day,” I replied as I attempted to rush out. In the corner of my eye, I could see her flying out of her chair, shouting after me: “Oh, yes you will!”I had walked about fifty feet from the main office, when she burst out the front side and yelled after me, “I’m gonna call security!”
That shook me up a little. I did not want to entangle security in this mess, but I refused to rush around full of panic, either. When I returned to the main office, I sat down calmly, refusing to be bullied into anything. After the secretary slammed the sign-in sheet on the front counter, she stormed into the principal’s office, screaming:”This man is so obstinate. He will not sign in!”Calmly, the assistant principal walked out an gently asked me, “Is everything all right?””Yes,” I replied. “I just signed the sheet.”This all took place with another teacher, a tenured faculty member, watching the whole thing. The secretary had no scruples, no sense of honor whatsoever. And she have made a complete fool of herself. The next time I came to the office, she was unprepared. Quietly, she slipped me the keys for the day. Then I reminded her this time,”Don’t I have to sign something?” She reached out another for me to sign. She said not a word that morning, as if we had an understanding. She would get what she needed from me, but not at the expense of my dignity.
Don’t get used to abuse!
