Dignity: The Hard Way

Somehow, somewhere in life, and surely not intentionally (wink, wink), you will tick someone off who you really should not have; someone you need or are going to have to interact with in the course of your life. But that’s not the deal. The deal is that you didn’t mean to tick this person off but they zing you back real bad, and in public. How rude! You want to say something clever (or worse) back. Freeze that moment in time. What should you do (as opposed to what did you do?)

Unfortunately this happens far too often. The operative situation here is that you are a good person and doing the best you can in everything you do but somehow you angered someone unintentionally and they reacted by manifesting their anger with words or maybe even a little rage. You are on the receiving end of a verbal tongue lashing and it wasn’t in a private setting. Your instincts will be to react back with equal force but if you have that little compass you got when you raised your bar it will steer you to the better way to respond.

In college sometimes you’ll do almost anything to make a few bucks especially if you are married, have children, and bills. Once upon a time in that situation, living in a place we lovingly called, “The Ghetto”, a neighbor asked me while on a home teaching visit, if I’d be interested in some part time work. Turns out he was a Constable and wanted me to serve legal papers for him. So I became a Process Server. (I refer to it now as a “Brain Dead Process Server”, not that there’s anything wrong with it.)

The deal was, for every legal paper I served I got a fixed amount of money based on the nature of the legal offense. I gave it a try and found out I could make real good money in just a few hours a night. For some reason I had a knack. I think I looked young, naïve, and innocent (it wasn’t too long previously that I honed this great skill while tracting in the mission field) so people answered their door even when they were taking deliberate steps to avoid being served.

Legal papers that were real old and hadn’t been served were worth substantially more than new ones. I made it a point to take some of these old ones that had gone unserved for a long time and usually could place them quickly. I made good money and met good people and soon the Constable asked if I’d like to branch out to some things that made even more money. This was repossession and transporting bail jumpers back to the State. It wasn’t bounty hunting but it was badge carrying, gun toting, wannabe stuff. It was a world I didn’t know even existed and was amazed punks like me could be doing it with so little training with a guy who was only a couple of degrees shy of kind of scary.

The Constable was what you could call an irascible character. He had been doing this Constable thing for a long time, knew a lot about it, but thought he knew more than he did. Even I could see that, brain dead as I was. He was frequently on a cop-wannabe ego trip, short on temper, and usually picked public venues to air his anger at who ever dared cross him. So why put up with it? I don’t know, brain death, bills to pay, “easy” money. After a couple of years of it, it was getting old and he was getting old but like I said, the money was good and okay, I was afraid to tell him “I quit.”

One thing I found out the hard way was that he liked to pull over people who cut him off in traffic. He actually had a “cherry” (a portable red flasher thing he could stick on his dashboard like cops have) in his car and with the badges and stuff, he could get away with it though he had no police authority and only did it to yell at people because they ticked him off. If I only knew then what I know now. Yea, I probably should have ‘ratted’ him out but what did I know. I’m like twenty-two and he’s sixty and been doing this for thirty years. Plus we dealt with cops all the time so I figured he must have known what he was doing. But it seemed weird all the same and I didn’t like to be with him when it happened.

One time, right in front of the Century movie theatre on State Street and 3300 South, we were going somewhere and he had me driving. (Oh I forgot to tell you, he liked me to chauffer him when he took me on a job.) So I was driving and he was shotgun and someone pulled out ahead of us, cut us off, and sped through the intersection (north on State at 33rd) on a stale yellow light. He told me to run it as he lit the cherry and put it in the car window. I told him it was red as I hit the brakes and he screamed for me to run it. So I ran it. We lived.

Then he told me to catch up to the person so they’d pull over. I did but they weren’t pulling over. So he told me to honk the horn at them. Those that know me can testify, I hate honking car horns. It’s one of my deals. I started to argue with him and he reached over and laid on the horn himself. They kept going and he told me to pull up along side of them in the outer lane so he could flash his badge and waive them over. I said no, we were driving too fast and I wasn’t going to do it. This was all going on, mind you, while I’m driving and trying to maintain control of the car. He went ballistic so I pulled up along side of them and he tried to waive the person over. I noticed at this point the car was full of passengers; maybe six people or so. The driver still wouldn’t pull over so he told me to pull over in their lane, cut them off, and then block them in. All I knew of this maneuver was from what I’d seen on the TV shows so clearly I told him I didn’t know how. He grabbed the wheel and started yanking it toward the other vehicle so I had to speed up or hit them. When I got ahead of them, he yanked hard and we cut over and I hit the brakes. Both vehicles stopped and we had the other car blocked in just like he wanted. Problem was he couldn’t get out of his door because it was angled against the other vehicle so there wasn’t clearance. Plus he was a lard butt.

Adrenaline was running a little high now, as you can imagine, and he was yelling at me to move the car so he could open his door. There were other lanes of traffic, my adrenaline was making me hyperventilate, and the guy’s anger toward me was really ticking me off. I wasn’t sure if he wanted me to back up or pull ahead. Both prospects had their downside so in the midst of his yelling I was trying to figure it out and probably went both ways before settling on backing up. Finally he got out and approached the other vehicle to yell at the driver. Keep in mind this all took place in about the same amount of time I am recounting it; only a half-a-minute or so.
So he’s out talking to the driver and I could hear him yelling at the guy and then he yells at me (I stayed in the vehicle, it wasn’t my beef) and asks me if I’m going to just sit in the car or if I had come to do some work. I got out of the car wondering what the heck I was supposed to do and the Constable was cuffing the driver like on Cops. I figured something else was up now and so I’m like, “What do you want me to do?” It seemed like a perfectly reasonable question for a brain dead process server but it just set him off and I got an earful in front of the driver, the five other passengers from the vehicle, and all the people walking down the freaking sidewalk wo had all stopped to gawk at us. He was colorfully screaming things like, “Do I have to do everything” and “Can’t you do anything without being told” and my all time favorite and I quote exactly, “Why don’t you put on a pair big boys, and help me out here!” Really!

As it turned out, I found out shortly thereafter, the car this fellow was driving happened to be a car he had been trying to repossess for months and could never find it and the driver was a frequent customer and had multiple warrants out on him. Further, it turns out, the Constable did have the power to pull over and detain in this situation (which doesn’t absolve him from some of the other things I observed.) Nevertheless, did I really have to stand there and hear about what a waste of space I was, and in front of all these people who were now standing around major gawking, while we waiting for the real cops to show up? Freaking really!

What would you have done or said? Instinctually when you get caught in these situations you want to either sneak out a back entrance and hide under a really big rock, or kick the person upside the head. I liked the kick upside the head one. But what should you do? (Did I tell you he also had a gun?)

My instincts told me to yell back at him, tell him what I thought of him, tell him I thought he was a big fat wannabe cop, tell him I had no respect for him and his game of pulling people over for their poor driving, and then get a few more shots in – maybe do a good one in relation to his “big boys” comment and make it about Depends or something age related. Something about Barney Fife would be good but the guy was way to fat. I didn’t though because I did have some respect for him, even though he had his moments, and like I said, he scared me. Plus, and I didn’t find out until later but it makes the point, he was in the right here (in the pull over) even though I had no clue what he was doing, he didn’t communicate it well, and probably went about it in a reckless manner. Also, I got half the booty and on a car repo’ and an arrest warrant, I’d make the Fall Quarter tuition and we’d eat.

Dignity. I love that word.

The biggest worry of a parent - after all the cuteness of their youth and the love you have for them that has no bounds which goes without saying - as a child leaves home is that they will behave appropriately in public. Of course you want them to be safe but you want them to also be responsible. You want them to not tarnish the family name; more, you want them to bring it honor. So what is it kids are always told. Walk away from bad things. Don’t ever do anything wrong. Know who you are and what you represent.

We all represent something and others and should only do things that bring honor to them. Never disgrace others by your actions. It’s just not cool. I like the motto of the Goodyear Corporation: “Protect Our Good Name.” Too bad Firestone didn’t have the same motto when they put out substandard tires a few years ago that killed people. Too bad Constables don’t know that. My boss embarrassed himself by the way he treated me. Everyone there and the Cops who came later while he was still ranting saw him as a pretty petty person (love that alliteration.)

I came away with my dignity because I didn’t sink to his level. I represented the County just like him and sinking to his level at that time could only harm the organization and bring tarnish to my family who raised me different. One of the cops later told me I did the right thing to ignore him; “He blows off steam but he means well.” It’s true. I think he lost his head and appreciated I didn’t. It taught me a lot that I would use later in dealing with elected officials and others who get full of themselves from time to time. I always walk away. My smart mouth instincts are on high alert but my compass tells me to walk on by. At least until I get to the car and roll up the windows.

Key to the whole point – as I see it:

Raising the bar means we walk away from confrontations. Always remember what your goal is and what the task is you are trying to accomplish. Fighting with Neanderthals who have no manners and who bring dishonor on themselves is not the right thing to do – probably ever. They will never get it and the heat of battle isn’t a learning moment. Stay dignified and others will see who the big person is and you will come away winning every time. You will also get the respect of others who will know who the buttheads are and who they aren’t.