In the rare times that I get focused on something, I am a sight to behold. And if I get a good head of steam when I'm walking, heaven help anything or anyone that is in my path. Yesterday at work, I was so determined to reach my destination that I didn't quite wait for a door to completely open before I went through the doorway. I heard my watch smack against the frosted glass pane of the door. When I turned around, I noticed that the impact mark with cracks spreading in every direction to the door's cherry wood frame.
This is what is known as a career limiting move.
You see, I sit two doors down from the managing member of our law firm. A man so mean, he reportedly once shot a man just for snoring. Today, he was mediating a case on our floor. Generally, when law firms decorate their offices, they try to go with a look that least reminds their clients of a crack house. Yet now prominently featured on our floor was my homage to Charlotte's Web.
This is not my first experience with property damage.
Let me back up.
My first and last fist fight as an adult occurred during my freshman year of undergrad.
I've talked about a number of my theories on this blog, but this one is infallible- D's Rule of Relationships #1: The person who cares the least, controls the relationship.
I was involved with a girl who my friends said would screw around whenever I was home for the weekend and had an unusual number of male friends. In retrospect, she made it clear she didn't want to be in a committed relationship, but I wouldn't believe it.
Needless to say, she cared the least.
One day, shortly before the end of the school year, I walked into a study room to see her curled up next to a guy that I knew had been trying to hook-up with her all school year. I'm typically a mild-mannered guy, but the combination of being played by this girl for the better part of a year and seeing the two of them together...
Well, let's just say things got a little Discovery Channel after that.
It no longer was an issue of disrespect. No, it got primal. Between me and this guy, only one of us was going to live to propagate our genes. Testosterone was flowing freely.
My father raised me not to back down from a fight, but not to start one either. So I essentially baited this guy into hitting me. First, by insults, which I enjoyed even though he didn't quite understand them. When that didn't work, I stood directly over him as if I was daring him to start something. That did it.
So though my father told me never to throw the first punch, he never actually said anything about letting the other guy land the next several punches. But that's what happened.
Despite all the smack that I was taking, it took a while for my brain to register that I was now in a fight. I have a lot of respect for people who can keep their wits about them in a fight, because unlike in the movies, fights tend to be chaotic and over quicky.
After taking a number of slugs to the head, I finally started to retaliate, landing some punches myself. He charged me, swung me around, and grabbed me around the neck. Then he applied pressure and I felt myself about to black out from lack of air.
The clearest thought that I had was that if I blackout, I would be in a world of hurt. So with every ounce of strength, I threw him over my shoulder...
... and through a glass door.
He tried to break his moment and ended up lacerating his arm pretty badly.
Fight over.
After my adrenaline went down later that evening, I noticed my jaw was sore, one of my ears was sticking out awkwardly, I had numerous scratches, and on my arm, a bite mark.
He bit me.
For whatever reason, that got me angry all over again and I went looking for him. It turned out that he getting his arm treated at the hospital with my ex.
I'm lucky I didn't get tossed out of school for what happened. I didn't even get charged for the window. I never spoke to the she-devil again.
The good news was that this formed the beginning of the emotional callous that has made me the person I am today.
I am the Irresistable Force and enemy of glass doors everywhere.
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17 comments:
"The person who cares the least, controls the relationship."
Wow, that is mind blowing. I think I just had an "aha!" moment.
"The person who cares the least, controls the relationship."
D, you have no idea how relavent that statement and your anecdote was to me. You're a scholar and a gentleman. GREAT entry.
"The person who cares the least, controls the relationship." Damn, D! That's the title of your new book and instructional videos. Love, your manager and publicist, who will receive 28% of your future revenues.
Did you earn a reputation for being the campus bad ass big man after that? Did you strut, or did the limp and crippling self conciousness from your hanging ear make that difficult? I've never been in a fight (I prefer to become pissy and passive agressive) so I'm just not sure how all the "kicked somebody's ass" aftermath works.... D?
I honestly, absolutely, with a passion, detest getting into fights. That shit hurts!
As to the "Person who cares the least" thing. I only just realised that over the past few years and not in a conscious way. Your statement actually gave what I've been doing substance.
Unfortunately, even following that rule, I still managed to find a girl, earlier this year, who got control of the relationship. Damn! I need to work on the whole "whatever!" angle.
See, if you read enough of my posts, I'll eventually get around to saying something profound. I think that rule is foolproof, but I'm interested if any one can think of an exception.
Beast, the fight happened at the tail end of the year, so there really wasn't enough time for my legend to grow. I moved out of that dorm the next year and returned to my usual obscurity.
Shit! I never care the least. Ever.
Anyway, that story is kind of hot.
D, there's a lot of things that I can picture you doing, however, fighting is not one of them. On relationships, that quote is pure genius, you have stumbled upon literary gold. The only truer words about women that have ever been spoken have been memorialized in song, "Never trust a big butt and smile."
28%--way too high. My fee includes personal enforcement, career consulting and guru-ing.
Darius - sorry man, you're out. My fee includes things you are either not willing or not able to do. D ain't switching sides. Get yourself another client.
The agent
Anonymous, I think we've had this discussion before but I certainly can appreciate your willingness to go the extra mile for the D.
In the words of Hans Gruber, "Shoot zie glahss."
So...what happened with the mean, gun-toting managers whose glass you shattered?
What if the managing member saw your reference to him??
To answer the last two comments. No one has said anything about the door. The silence has been deafening. They're probably figuring out my severance package.
As far as the mean managing member, I think he may actually take my comment as a compliment. You think a high-powered litigator would be upset that someone described him as fearsome? at most, he'd wonder why I was blogging (at home and on my "own time" by the way) instead of billing.
Maybe the managing partner now secretly admires you for your aggressive nature... after all, *he* didn't have the spine to beat the heck out of a large pane of glass that was interrupting his momentum!
You just need to figure out who to bill for the time you spend blogging.
Holy smokes! "The person who cares the least, controls the relationship" is even more liberating a concept than "He's just not that into you!" Thanks, D!
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