I was involved in a conflict the other day, and I liked it.
I was in the lobby of my building waiting for the elevator while a man was stuffing junk mail into the mailboxes. The security guard was standing next to him and asking him to stop. The man ignored him and kept stuffing the mailboxes with his advertising. The security guard didn’t back down, but also didn’t push harder; he kept his composure and repeatedly asked the guy to stop. My elevator was taking a long time and I watched this undramatic drama continue, waiting for a solution that didn’t involve me, but it didn’t stop. I became slowly resolved, and when enough time had passed I stepped in. I walked up and stood over the junk mail guy, put my hand out infront of him and said in Chinese “Really, you have to stop”.
I was scared, I had no idea what would happen next. I was all tensed up, ready for a physical fight, or worse. This moment was magical, a come-what-hither moment that perhaps only a man drunk on testosterone could appreciate.
The man pretty much immediately backed off and scurried away, but not before giving me a big grin, which I interpreted to mean he wanted to diffuse the situation with a bit of good-natured humour.
I shouted after him, “What, you don’t understand Chinese?” in my bad Chinese. It could have been comical, but when you’re the winner you’re allowed a little bravado.
I was in the lobby of my building waiting for the elevator while a man was stuffing junk mail into the mailboxes. The security guard was standing next to him and asking him to stop. The man ignored him and kept stuffing the mailboxes with his advertising. The security guard didn’t back down, but also didn’t push harder; he kept his composure and repeatedly asked the guy to stop. My elevator was taking a long time and I watched this undramatic drama continue, waiting for a solution that didn’t involve me, but it didn’t stop. I became slowly resolved, and when enough time had passed I stepped in. I walked up and stood over the junk mail guy, put my hand out infront of him and said in Chinese “Really, you have to stop”.
I was scared, I had no idea what would happen next. I was all tensed up, ready for a physical fight, or worse. This moment was magical, a come-what-hither moment that perhaps only a man drunk on testosterone could appreciate.
The man pretty much immediately backed off and scurried away, but not before giving me a big grin, which I interpreted to mean he wanted to diffuse the situation with a bit of good-natured humour.
I shouted after him, “What, you don’t understand Chinese?” in my bad Chinese. It could have been comical, but when you’re the winner you’re allowed a little bravado.
1 comment:
I get a rush from these sorts of everyday, mundane conflicts. Even just sitting on the sidelines watching makes me a little giddy.
Post a Comment