I suppose it’s a truism that the best way to beat a bully is to fight back. The theory is that most bullies are easily cowed by people who stand up for themselves. And so it was one day recently, when my wife Liz and I went to the gym for a two-mile walk on the track.
On this visit, as one several previous trips, we had to share the track with a short, thick-set runner who charges along like a bull in a china shop. We groaned. The indoor track is small and narrow, but wide enough for three people to walk or run abreast. In the past, this guy has repeatedly bumped into Liz as he lumbered by, and never with a word of apology. Over the years, no runner or walker had ever collided into either of us until this guy came along.
The Bull didn’t exactly crash into Liz. He would brush her arm lightly, even though we always walk as far to the right of the track as we can, so a third person can get by without incident. It felt like he was deliberately trying to signal Liz to give him more room. You know the type. The Bull, or someone like him, is the kind of narcissist who honks at you at an intersection as soon as the light turns green, or cuts in front of you at the deli counter if he thinks he can get away with it.
As I was walking on the outside of the track and The Bull was passing on the inside, I offered to switch places with Liz so he would have to run by me rather than her. Then if he bumped me, I could say something. But she was having none of it; she would not yield her ground to a bully. I could see that her frustration was building. And I knew it would soon come to a boil.
I should note here that Liz is a mild-mannered, scrupulously courteous person who never raises her voice in public. It's almost impossible to imagine her doing so. But even she has her limits. After The Bull’s fourth or fifth foray into her personal space, she finally spoke up as he ran by.
“Stop bumping into me, please,” she said in a normal tone.
For a fraction of a second, I wasn’t sure The Bull had heard her. But he had. Turning around in mid stride he shouted back: “So move out of the way, then!”
Big mistake.
“No,” Liz shot back in a loud and unprecedented public display of anger. “You move out of the way!”
There was no further contact - verbal or physical - as we all continued to circle the track, even though The Bull passed us several more times before he finished his run. Each time he did as he had been told by steering clear of Liz. I could see that he was now moving several inches to the left whenever he ran by, to avoid The Woman Who Talked Back.
On this visit, as one several previous trips, we had to share the track with a short, thick-set runner who charges along like a bull in a china shop. We groaned. The indoor track is small and narrow, but wide enough for three people to walk or run abreast. In the past, this guy has repeatedly bumped into Liz as he lumbered by, and never with a word of apology. Over the years, no runner or walker had ever collided into either of us until this guy came along.
The Bull didn’t exactly crash into Liz. He would brush her arm lightly, even though we always walk as far to the right of the track as we can, so a third person can get by without incident. It felt like he was deliberately trying to signal Liz to give him more room. You know the type. The Bull, or someone like him, is the kind of narcissist who honks at you at an intersection as soon as the light turns green, or cuts in front of you at the deli counter if he thinks he can get away with it.
As I was walking on the outside of the track and The Bull was passing on the inside, I offered to switch places with Liz so he would have to run by me rather than her. Then if he bumped me, I could say something. But she was having none of it; she would not yield her ground to a bully. I could see that her frustration was building. And I knew it would soon come to a boil.
I should note here that Liz is a mild-mannered, scrupulously courteous person who never raises her voice in public. It's almost impossible to imagine her doing so. But even she has her limits. After The Bull’s fourth or fifth foray into her personal space, she finally spoke up as he ran by.
“Stop bumping into me, please,” she said in a normal tone.
For a fraction of a second, I wasn’t sure The Bull had heard her. But he had. Turning around in mid stride he shouted back: “So move out of the way, then!”
Big mistake.
“No,” Liz shot back in a loud and unprecedented public display of anger. “You move out of the way!”
There was no further contact - verbal or physical - as we all continued to circle the track, even though The Bull passed us several more times before he finished his run. Each time he did as he had been told by steering clear of Liz. I could see that he was now moving several inches to the left whenever he ran by, to avoid The Woman Who Talked Back.
It was Theodore Roosevelt who once said: “Knowing what’s right doesn’t mean much unless you do what’s right.” That's true even if the only thing at stake is your piece of turf on the track.
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