Kindness and Its Successes (or failures)
'What I regret most in my life are failures of kindness.' - George Saunders
He talks in this rapid pace, all the while avoiding eye contact. He stresses his point by looking at documents, instead of me. He dwells on one issue, then jumps on the next which is completely off-point. Then goes to another. And another. In only about five minutes, he manages to apologize profusely, to say absurd comments about an issue, to lie, to effect veiled threats, and to leave the conversation, thinking he got what he wanted. Perhaps even laughing at me deep inside him, while feeling accomplished.
He seems to be a reasonable person when he talks to me. He is respectful, always with 'ma'am' at the end of each sentence. I engage him in personal conversations as I do with all my colleagues and somewhere in his eyes, I see a glimpse of happiness, that someone cares to ask about his life. During those few seconds, I look through him and I feel sadness. Mostly for him, not for me nor those he has managed to spit at behind their backs in more than a decade, or so they say.
Even before I met him, many have told me about him. To be on guard, to be vigilant, not to trust him. He is manipulative, they say. Worse, who knows what he really can do to ruin me. He is arrogant, loud, cold-hearted, unfair, disrespectful of others, throws his weight around, imposing, they said. I prepared to meet all these with a 'tough-guy' bravado. But shortly after I met him, I got the first taste of what these people were telling me. He behaved exactly as he was described, and I, with my darker side lurking within, (yes I have that) met him head-on. That was a mistake, I succumbed to my vulnerability. I promptly apologized to him, not because my point was wrong in this issue we argued about, but because I should not have succumbed to the 'unprofessionalism', and because, well, my parents brought me up to be decent.
Not a day goes by that I do not hear of an incident, a remark, a decision, or some little thing, that he did with no adverse reaction from others. Many tell me that now he has mellowed. He is behaving better, subdued, but still at it, suddenly shreiking and yelling about this and that, cursing at the air, or at anyone who dared oppose him. And then there are days he would be fine, quiet and kind, considerate. This has become normal to me, after six months that when they tell me about him, I only reply, 'what is it that he did, this time?', with resignation. I just tell myself, be kind, and all things right will follow.
My work is about ninety percent devoted to dealing with these dynamics, these intramurals among people. My staff, my colleagues, the powers that be. Only ten percent is really devoted to the technical aspect of work, which to me, is a walk in the park. I have been doing this job for twenty-three years. I can frame action plans, concept papers, memos, resolutions, in my mind so fast if I had a way to move it in my iPad just by projecting my thoughts, my iPad memory would be full. At times, I look back and wonder how I survived twenty-three years and still be sane. Or I would like to think I am now.
Some say I am too kind, too generous, too patient, too trusting, too much of a 'people person' for my own sake. Some say I need to learn to say 'no'. That word has never been in vocabulary. People tended to abuse me, and to my face, too. Most of them do not care, really, if I feel violated. They just get what they want from me, and leave me up there in the air, alone, when it is 'reckoning time'.
For one, I am kind, generous, patient, trusting and a 'people person' because of my genes. I state this because I do not want be falsely modest. I come from a family whose members (well, most) who are exactly the same. Second, I grew up in a political environment, where we are to be the ones giving and serving, not the other way around. I had a childhood surrounded with people who seemed to need help all the time (at a a young age, I thought that it was normal for people to ask help from us). So I saw my grandparents, uncles, aunts, etc., giving all the time. Third, I was in this life of privilege (though not realizing it at that time), then became suddenly poor. So I know how it feels not have everything, and nothing. So I have this over-the-top empathy in me.
Perhaps all these three put together push my vulnerabillty. In my difficult times, I have looked to kindness from others to understand my plight, such that I, now, use kindness to direct me to wherever I need to go, and understand others. I have always believed that you will lose nothing to show kindness. If others do not appreciate it then that is their problem, not mine. Appreciation is just one thing. There are those who, aside from not appreciating anything at all, but further, maliciously think that when shown kindness, there is something expected in return. The heights of paranoia. Sigh.
Good faith is most important. In whatever I do, good faith is there. This gets me in trouble many times, I have learned that the hard way. But still, I insist on good faith. Because again, you lose nothing if you have it in your thoughts, in your heart. And regardless of the consequences of risks I take, in good faith, I gain, more than I lose all that matter in life.
Last but definitely not the the least point is this: unwavering faith in God, I am absolutely sure that He looks into my heart and sees the kindness and good intentions in there. And so everyday, I am faced with the challenge of using kindness, good faith, and strength from God, to deal with people like him. That, to others may seem lame and weak. But I have not lost faith. Some day, he will realize that like any other person I cross paths with, he is now part of the story of my life, and I genuinely care for him. Maybe then, he will be kind, too, most days. Or have good faith, too, again for most days. I can only hope.
He talks in this rapid pace, all the while avoiding eye contact. He stresses his point by looking at documents, instead of me. He dwells on one issue, then jumps on the next which is completely off-point. Then goes to another. And another. In only about five minutes, he manages to apologize profusely, to say absurd comments about an issue, to lie, to effect veiled threats, and to leave the conversation, thinking he got what he wanted. Perhaps even laughing at me deep inside him, while feeling accomplished.
He seems to be a reasonable person when he talks to me. He is respectful, always with 'ma'am' at the end of each sentence. I engage him in personal conversations as I do with all my colleagues and somewhere in his eyes, I see a glimpse of happiness, that someone cares to ask about his life. During those few seconds, I look through him and I feel sadness. Mostly for him, not for me nor those he has managed to spit at behind their backs in more than a decade, or so they say.
Even before I met him, many have told me about him. To be on guard, to be vigilant, not to trust him. He is manipulative, they say. Worse, who knows what he really can do to ruin me. He is arrogant, loud, cold-hearted, unfair, disrespectful of others, throws his weight around, imposing, they said. I prepared to meet all these with a 'tough-guy' bravado. But shortly after I met him, I got the first taste of what these people were telling me. He behaved exactly as he was described, and I, with my darker side lurking within, (yes I have that) met him head-on. That was a mistake, I succumbed to my vulnerability. I promptly apologized to him, not because my point was wrong in this issue we argued about, but because I should not have succumbed to the 'unprofessionalism', and because, well, my parents brought me up to be decent.
Not a day goes by that I do not hear of an incident, a remark, a decision, or some little thing, that he did with no adverse reaction from others. Many tell me that now he has mellowed. He is behaving better, subdued, but still at it, suddenly shreiking and yelling about this and that, cursing at the air, or at anyone who dared oppose him. And then there are days he would be fine, quiet and kind, considerate. This has become normal to me, after six months that when they tell me about him, I only reply, 'what is it that he did, this time?', with resignation. I just tell myself, be kind, and all things right will follow.
My work is about ninety percent devoted to dealing with these dynamics, these intramurals among people. My staff, my colleagues, the powers that be. Only ten percent is really devoted to the technical aspect of work, which to me, is a walk in the park. I have been doing this job for twenty-three years. I can frame action plans, concept papers, memos, resolutions, in my mind so fast if I had a way to move it in my iPad just by projecting my thoughts, my iPad memory would be full. At times, I look back and wonder how I survived twenty-three years and still be sane. Or I would like to think I am now.
Some say I am too kind, too generous, too patient, too trusting, too much of a 'people person' for my own sake. Some say I need to learn to say 'no'. That word has never been in vocabulary. People tended to abuse me, and to my face, too. Most of them do not care, really, if I feel violated. They just get what they want from me, and leave me up there in the air, alone, when it is 'reckoning time'.
For one, I am kind, generous, patient, trusting and a 'people person' because of my genes. I state this because I do not want be falsely modest. I come from a family whose members (well, most) who are exactly the same. Second, I grew up in a political environment, where we are to be the ones giving and serving, not the other way around. I had a childhood surrounded with people who seemed to need help all the time (at a a young age, I thought that it was normal for people to ask help from us). So I saw my grandparents, uncles, aunts, etc., giving all the time. Third, I was in this life of privilege (though not realizing it at that time), then became suddenly poor. So I know how it feels not have everything, and nothing. So I have this over-the-top empathy in me.
Perhaps all these three put together push my vulnerabillty. In my difficult times, I have looked to kindness from others to understand my plight, such that I, now, use kindness to direct me to wherever I need to go, and understand others. I have always believed that you will lose nothing to show kindness. If others do not appreciate it then that is their problem, not mine. Appreciation is just one thing. There are those who, aside from not appreciating anything at all, but further, maliciously think that when shown kindness, there is something expected in return. The heights of paranoia. Sigh.
Good faith is most important. In whatever I do, good faith is there. This gets me in trouble many times, I have learned that the hard way. But still, I insist on good faith. Because again, you lose nothing if you have it in your thoughts, in your heart. And regardless of the consequences of risks I take, in good faith, I gain, more than I lose all that matter in life.
Last but definitely not the the least point is this: unwavering faith in God, I am absolutely sure that He looks into my heart and sees the kindness and good intentions in there. And so everyday, I am faced with the challenge of using kindness, good faith, and strength from God, to deal with people like him. That, to others may seem lame and weak. But I have not lost faith. Some day, he will realize that like any other person I cross paths with, he is now part of the story of my life, and I genuinely care for him. Maybe then, he will be kind, too, most days. Or have good faith, too, again for most days. I can only hope.
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