Why don’t you like me without making me try?
–Mika/Grace Kelly.
One of the benefits of increasing age is a decrease in caring about what people think. When I was a teenager, or in my early twenties, I tended to want people to like me. I needed them to like me. I worried about it if people didn’t like me. As I get older, that need has decreased. I still prefer it when people like me, but these days if people don’t like me I don’t worry too much about it. Some people don’t. Some people won’t, and it doesn’t matter what I do they never will.
What I find interesting is that a lot of people think I’m intimidating. Mostly people at work. Me. Intimidating. It’s hilarious. In most ways, I’m about as intimidating as a half-melted marshmallow.
If I am completely frank, though, I do have a little bit of an issue with people who are willfully ignorant. You know the ones–the ones who are completely unwilling to learn. They aren’t necessarily stupid. They just refuse to learn, because they think that other people should be responsible for them at all times. They are the ones who ask questions, don’t bother listening to the answers, and then ask the same question again. And again. And yet again. They keep asking until I tell them to write down what I say because I won’t be saying it again. Since they don’t listen, they don’t hear that tone in my voice. The tone that indicates that I am very serious.
Those people might think I am intimidating when they try to ask me the same question again after I’ve told them to write it down. They will find that I meant exactly what I said. If I have suggested to someone that they write something down, and they call me again, what they will probably hear is:
“What did I tell you when you asked me this yesterday?”
And then I wait for them to tell me.
The really odd thing is that usually what they say is something like “you told me that I need to do xyz and that I should write it down.”
When I ask why they are calling me if they know what they are supposed to do, they don’t usually have an answer. They mumble something about thanking me for my help, and get the hell off my phone.
I’m not unkind about it. I don’t raise my voice. I am very civil. I like to think that I am helping them learn to behave like adults by refusing to enable their infantile dependency. Can you be gentle, yet still intimidating? Maybe you can.
Why can’t I like them without making them try?
Because it’s not good for them. Or me.