The Nice Girl’s Guide to Conflict Resolution

I have come to terms with the fact that not everyone will like me.  Or what I do.  Or what I say.

Whatthewhat?!  I know, it’s crazy, right?  You’re all who are these people, Roo?  That makes no sense, like the Loch Ness monster and Rihanna’s Grammy Award.

Alas.  Conflict happens to everyone.  I feel like I am pretty good at diffusing a situation, staying calm, and achieving a resolution that is mutually gratifying to both parties involved.  Mainly because I have an expressionless face, and in times of emergency, I sort of turn into a robot.  My family finds it fascinating, and also a little disturbing.

Scene: It’s summer; I’m 18.  I’m waiting tables at a restaurant.  The wait is long, and there are people gathered outside.  I step outside for a moment, and a man wearing shorts (who I later find out had recently had surgery) starts screaming.  Blood is shooting out of his leg.  Literally, shooting.  People scream and stand back.  He falls to the ground.  Blood is pooling on the sidewalk.

I – in complete robot fashion – tell a coworker to call 911, grab a towel, put pressure on the bleeding, and start asking the normal emergency scenario questions.

“Why is your leg spontaneously erupting blood everywhere?”
“Is your family here?”
“Is this a picture of your son in your wallet?  He’s cute.  How old is he and does he have a girlfriend?”

You know, normal stuff.  Ambulance came, whisked him away, and someone in a hazmat suit hosed off the sidewalk.  But seriously?  People had lost their minds.  Lots of screaming, panicking, and warnings predicting vomit emerging.  But because I have no facial expressions/soul/shred of humanity inside my cold, cold heart, I was able to get junk done without crying or hyperventilating.

My brother deems my robot morphing as being simultaneously impressive and creepy.

Here, let me teach you how to handle it when someone confronts you about your action or inaction, perceived or not.  You don’t even have to be a robot.  Or a cyborg.  Or have a cold, cold heart.

Scenario #1:  Let’s just say I happened to post a vlog about how I don’t like cats, and an acquaintance who really really likes her six cats got upset.  And unfriended me on Facebook.  And confronted me about it.

Juuuust kidding, everyone. Cats are.. great?

“Roo, I’m really hurt and offended that you did that vlog about how you don’t like cats and you don’t like people who own cats.  My cats are my BABIES.  They’re my children.”  So I turned into a robot, kept my voice calm, and chose not to be offended by her being offended.  (Haha, drama.  I’M SO MAD THAT YOU’RE MAD.)

Step 1:   Assess the situation.  Is the person upset?  Crazy?  Irate?  Are there tears?  Listen intently, make eye contact, and nod occasionally to let her know you’re listening.  Let her finish her speech, unless she starts going off into incoherent tangents.

Step 2:  Give an apology if you owe her one.  Even if you don’t, acknowledge that she’s upset.  Her feelings are real, even if the offense is bogus.  Explain yourself, but nicely and without any hint of “What. the. junk.” in your voice.  Mine sounded something like, “I’m so sorry you were hurt.  That vlog was done in jest, and I pointed out that I will hang out with you and your cats, but I don’t want them accompanying me to the ladies’ room.  Get your facts right, jerky.”  Minus the last sentence.

Step 3: Let her counter your thoughts.  Reassess.  Repeat, if necessary.  Once you have come to a mutual conclusion, smile.

Step 4: Wrap up your thoughts, hug it out (if you generally hug), and end it.  Once the situation is resolved, do not keep talking about it.  As Ma Ingalls said, “Least said, soonest mended.”  Real talk, baby.

Scenario #2:  Several months ago, I signed a contract with a company which stated that I would write five articles for their publication.  I promised not to write any articles for any competing publications while I was still on the job.  Pretty standard.  The editor is a very normal, pretty cool guy.  And then one day, we had a misunderstanding.  He was furious.

“You’re under BREACH OF CONTRACT!!!  Bwahhhhhh hate youuuu FOREVERRRRR!!!!!”

He morphed into a crazy, rage-y dinosaur.  By default, I turned into a robot.

The zeroes and ones are binary code, in case you didn’t catch that nerdy reference.

We went through the first three steps, but couldn’t come to a mutual conclusion.  In fact, it just got worse.  He was just so angry, and then I was starting to get angry.  I could feel the robot coming apart, and I don’t know if you’ve seen Jurassic Park, buuuut two velociraptors fighting doesn’t end well.  There’s usually blood and a little blonde girl in pigtails sobbing.  So, at step 3, I stopped and said this…

“I think we’re both a little heated right now.  Perhaps we should table this discussion, collect our thoughts, and revisit this situation this afternoon.”

Neither of us were pleased when we got off the phone, but it was good to be rage-y in private.  (Hang up phone —> yell a string of incoherent words —> pace frantically for 30 seconds —> resign self to emotionally eating —> blame other person for inevitable weight gain —> eat another cookie to console self.)

By the time we spoke that afternoon, we were calm and able to fix the misunderstanding.  He apologized for being a dinosaur, and I apologized for calling him terrible names after I hung up the phone.  (JK, y’all.  Mostly.)

Note #1:  Sometimes you simply cannot come to an agreement.  He thinks one way, you think the other, and ne’er the two shall meet.  In this case, I address the fact that we do not agree, but attempt to find closure nonetheless.  Something like… “We feel very different about this topic, but I’m glad we were able to hear each other out.”  Then smile.  Then end.  (Hugging it out is optional here.)

Note #2:  You cannot reason with crazy people.  If you doubt the mental state of the person yelling at you, end the conversation, leave, then anonymously send them a referral to a psychotherapist.

Note #3:  If you’re the crazy person, it’s cool.  I got you a kitten…