Life lesson for the thoughtless
Heard this story the other day.
A man rushed from a hotel, ran out between the cars and held up his hand for a taxi although there was none to be seen in either direction. Almost immediately, as though from out of nowhere, a taxi appeared right in front of him. He yanked open the door and jumped in.
“Hey, man,” he said to the driver, “that was lucky.”
“Yeah, I know. You remind me of Mr. Candline.”
“Is that so? Why would that be?”
“Darnedest man I ever saw,” the driver replied. “If he came out of the
hotel just now as you did, except he might be looking for a hotdog, a vendor would have hauled up within 10 seconds. Everything works for him, all the time. Never makes a mistake. Two men once tried to mug him late one night and he beat the two of them to a pulp. Then he arrested them — did I mention he was a karate instructor on the police force? — and escorted them to the lockup. He was an expert driver, knew how to pilot a small plane, and was so good in bed that women
would beg him to sleep with them. On top of that...”
“Whoa,” his passenger interrupted. “How do you know this Mr. Candline so well? Were you related?”
“Not exactly,” the driver replied. “I married his ex-wife.”
Someone was telling me the other day that he was talking to his MHA who confessed that he was feeling pretty frustrated with the world of politics.
“Makes no matter how hard I work,” he said…
(We need to pause here and make time for each of us on an individual
basis to give vent to our thoughts. This can be a private time for you where you can use whatever language you wish to describe your response to that last quote. So let us carry on.)
This MHA (and let’s agree there are some who work quite hard at their
job, while others leave such an imprint of their rear ends in the chairs behind their desks that it would take a team of upholsterers and/or carpenters to get it out — and yes, I know one can work quite hard while seated behind a desk) was quite upset that only a few wanted to give him credit for the work he had done or was doing.
The MHA gave examples of things people would say to him, and they were often, he pointed out, members of the same party as he. Surprise, surprise.
“Mr. Washburn did that before the last election. Too bad he didn’t run
again.” “Miss Dolly Harvell had everyone in the district on the tips of her
fingers. What a personality!” “George Havisham organized the beginnings of that union three years ago. All the work was already done.”
Let’s talk about the clergy. The cruelest thing we can do to a minister
or priest or pastor is to compare him or her to the previous person in that position. Or suggest that most of the work in that particular field had already been accomplished. I will be honest. I have found myself doing that very same thing and felt ashamed and guilty. And yes, I did try each time to make amends.
I was once invited by a supervisor in another much larger school
district to visit the classroom of a teacher who was having problems with the poetry section of the English program. Students were rebelling in his classes, which had degenerated into mayhem. The teacher assured me it was all true and welcomed my help.
After many years of teaching a subject I loved, I knew what to say and
how to say it and what poems to use as illustrations. Within a few minutes they were listening attentively and sharing in a discussion of meaning and technique.
At the end, they applauded loud and long, or at least until the bell rang for lunch.
“Gee,” the teacher said as they all filed out, smiling and waving, “I wish I could do that.” Then he added, hesitantly, “Could you do what you just
did every class without having one of your best lessons to give them?”
And it struck me hard. It was so unfair to the teacher to do that to him, so very unfair. His students would be comparing a class I had carefully
honed in similar circumstances with one he had to give every day.
I admitted that I almost certainly could not, and I suggested we have a
working lunch together. I tried to give him some pointers that I had found useful with high school students over the years. He assured me after that his classes had really improved. Years later, he told me the same thing. I hope he wasn’t just being kind.
That’s my life lesson this week, class. I hope, if you haven’t already
done so, that you remember it when next you’re speaking to someone who needs your support more than his/her predecessor does.
I end with a fitting illustration. Two young women in the office of a
prominent politician were discussing him during lunch. They were both infatuated with their boss.
“He dresses much more nicely than the fellow who was here before,” one of them said admiringly.
“Yes,” said the other with a far away look in her eyes, “and more quickly, too.” I would apologize for that if I felt it was called for.
I don’t.
The cruelest thing we can do to a minister or priest or pastor is to compare him or her to the previous person in that position. Or suggest that most of the work in that particular field had already been accomplished.