or search for 'martin cadwell' or 'martin cadwell blog' in your browser.
I am not on YouTube or social media
Hopefully, no-one will jump on the band-wagon and high-jack this theme, if only to keep the blog posts diverse.
[ 6 minute read - 1200 words ]
Pathetic but I respect him
I have only to go to the shop to get into an awkward moment. Seventeen and eighteen year olds use it during their school lunch-time. Big lads these days. A couple were standing by my bicycle when I came out and I jokingly thanked them for guarding my bike. It has a lock on it anyway, It is plainly in sight. They politely smiled and each murmured something unintelligible. As I unlocked my bike, I asked them if they were studying at the academy. They both nodded, one more than the other. I asked the more lively one what he was studying and the answer was ‘BTEC Business’. But he seemed a little embarrassed like it is not a real subject. Perhaps his heart was not in it. He did say later that he didn’t really know what kind of business he might form, but was adamant that he would not be using his studies to become an employee of some kind.
Having been in business and previously been an employer, I offered him some tidbits, such as any business you do must be the first thing you think of every morning, and you cannot switch off until you fall asleep. All day, I told him I was always thinking how I could improve my own business or save money.
A small crowd of other lads gathered, around us; about twelve of them. They all listened to what I was saying. I glanced at one who said. ‘Carry on preaching.’ Odd, I thought all I am doing is telling two lads how I ran my business. I carried on talking to the two lads and went on to say that he should probably expect to delegate all those ponderings to A.I. I then related a story I had heard about how Chat GPT had assisted a fourteen year old boy to make a final and fatal decision. I said that I don’t trust A.I. one bit. Just as I was about to leave the weird lad said, ‘Thanks Daddy’ in a fawning voice. I didn’t react beyond giving him a long glance. "Bye, Daddy, Bye Daddy". I stopped readying myself to get on my bicycle.
‘Don’t be weird. Don’t be weird.’ I said. He didn’t expect me to confidently respond to him and moved to the safety of the other side of the group where I was previously standing. Another lad looked at me and said, "I’ll have a word with him."
I told the weird sarcastic lad that he had just negated everything I had said. That if there was anything that was good he had destroyed it. I said if I am an idiot that is fine, but the other lads might have found something useful in what I had said, but now they might dismiss it as just entertainment due to his desire to be noticed. He apologised and hung his head.
I really wanted to dress him down, humiliate him. Unfortunately, he had triggered me with his public heckling and attempt to discredit me. Some time ago, my inner rage had been fanned by a neighbour who consistently allowed his pack of six Staffordshire Terriers to terrorise my elderly neighbours to such an extent that they were afraid to put their rubbish in their refuse bins. Eventually, after having probably seven separate conversations with him in the shared residents area, to which he had no permissible access and certainly not with his pooping dogs, I challenged him and six of his friends to a fight. It wasn’t a formal challenge, like, ‘I say, old man, would you care for a little fisticuffs?’ or slapping him in the face with a gauntlet and then throwing it down. Neither was there going to be pistols at dawn. Mindful of the tiny little ornamental fence that separated me and him, I knew that I would trip over it if I had to step back if I approached him to be close enough to clout him (start the fight). So I just made a right hook that missed by about two feet. The fight started. I nearly won but was eventually overwhelmed. If I am triggered I am fearless.
Among these lads, I certainly was not about to be physically violent and I was not inclined to be verbally violent either. I was triggered, but I still valued all of them. The point is, that there is a slow burning fury in me that I am always trying to dampen. But, an overwhelming feeling of resentment fans the embers if I let bullies, mockers, hecklers, and parasites near me. This sarcastic lad was facing someone with a high IQ and an extremely strong desire to defend himself. He had no idea. To him, I am just someone with no education at all, because I am not at school. However, I would lose a verbal argument because it is likely that he would not be able to understand me speaking from experience. It would simply become nonsense after a while.
I could have harangued him and brought shame on him for his silly attitude. I could have convinced at least some of the watching crowd that he is pathetic and disruptive, even narcissistic in wanting to be the centre of attention. I didn’t. Not because I care whether any onlookers would gauge me as a tyrannical bully or as someone spreading scorn on him too thickly. No, because it would serve no purpose. Instead I said to his peers, “This lad might appear to be foolish, but he has a quality that I admire and these days rarely find. He has listened to me and accepted responsibility for his actions, and he has apologised. In business, it is vitally important to accept responsibility for our actions. Good luck.” Nobody spoke and I rode away.
At home, I replayed the scene over and over again, as is my wont. I could improve my approach in addressing young lads. I could watch myself to make sure I am not patronising. I am pretty sure that the sarcastic lad felt a bit humiliated by my boorish monologue. I could have finished by saying, “Some of you think I am a fool but you might want to think about what I am doing wrong and try to understand how you would do it differently.”
Study with the Open University has armed me with two questions that I could use to fend off scorn. The second, I think, is the key to undoing verbal attacks if it is considered by the attacker.
‘What did I just say?’ and ‘Why did I say it?’ Even by itself, the second question acts as a derailment of a continuous train of invective.
These lads might be amenable to such questions. Despite children being forced to attend some form of training up to the age of eighteen, these lads were interested in their chosen subjects. I would not expect to find them in the village recreation ground drinking cider or getting stoned. I doubt if I would be strong enough to hold my tongue if twelve lads were truculently abusive, such as I once was.
Ultimately, I could have shut the sarcastic lad down by saying “I am talking to these two lads. You have come up and listened. I let you listen but it is not right that you should comment on a conversation to which you are not included. You are only part of an uninvited audience.”
Pathetic but I respect him
All my posts: https://learn1.open.ac.uk/mod/oublog/view.php?u=zw219551
or search for 'martin cadwell' or 'martin cadwell blog' in your browser.
I am not on YouTube or social media
Hopefully, no-one will jump on the band-wagon and high-jack this theme, if only to keep the blog posts diverse.
[ 6 minute read - 1200 words ]
Pathetic but I respect him
I have only to go to the shop to get into an awkward moment. Seventeen and eighteen year olds use it during their school lunch-time. Big lads these days. A couple were standing by my bicycle when I came out and I jokingly thanked them for guarding my bike. It has a lock on it anyway, It is plainly in sight. They politely smiled and each murmured something unintelligible. As I unlocked my bike, I asked them if they were studying at the academy. They both nodded, one more than the other. I asked the more lively one what he was studying and the answer was ‘BTEC Business’. But he seemed a little embarrassed like it is not a real subject. Perhaps his heart was not in it. He did say later that he didn’t really know what kind of business he might form, but was adamant that he would not be using his studies to become an employee of some kind.
Having been in business and previously been an employer, I offered him some tidbits, such as any business you do must be the first thing you think of every morning, and you cannot switch off until you fall asleep. All day, I told him I was always thinking how I could improve my own business or save money.
A small crowd of other lads gathered, around us; about twelve of them. They all listened to what I was saying. I glanced at one who said. ‘Carry on preaching.’ Odd, I thought all I am doing is telling two lads how I ran my business. I carried on talking to the two lads and went on to say that he should probably expect to delegate all those ponderings to A.I. I then related a story I had heard about how Chat GPT had assisted a fourteen year old boy to make a final and fatal decision. I said that I don’t trust A.I. one bit. Just as I was about to leave the weird lad said, ‘Thanks Daddy’ in a fawning voice. I didn’t react beyond giving him a long glance. "Bye, Daddy, Bye Daddy". I stopped readying myself to get on my bicycle.
‘Don’t be weird. Don’t be weird.’ I said. He didn’t expect me to confidently respond to him and moved to the safety of the other side of the group where I was previously standing. Another lad looked at me and said, "I’ll have a word with him."
I told the weird sarcastic lad that he had just negated everything I had said. That if there was anything that was good he had destroyed it. I said if I am an idiot that is fine, but the other lads might have found something useful in what I had said, but now they might dismiss it as just entertainment due to his desire to be noticed. He apologised and hung his head.
I really wanted to dress him down, humiliate him. Unfortunately, he had triggered me with his public heckling and attempt to discredit me. Some time ago, my inner rage had been fanned by a neighbour who consistently allowed his pack of six Staffordshire Terriers to terrorise my elderly neighbours to such an extent that they were afraid to put their rubbish in their refuse bins. Eventually, after having probably seven separate conversations with him in the shared residents area, to which he had no permissible access and certainly not with his pooping dogs, I challenged him and six of his friends to a fight. It wasn’t a formal challenge, like, ‘I say, old man, would you care for a little fisticuffs?’ or slapping him in the face with a gauntlet and then throwing it down. Neither was there going to be pistols at dawn. Mindful of the tiny little ornamental fence that separated me and him, I knew that I would trip over it if I had to step back if I approached him to be close enough to clout him (start the fight). So I just made a right hook that missed by about two feet. The fight started. I nearly won but was eventually overwhelmed. If I am triggered I am fearless.
Among these lads, I certainly was not about to be physically violent and I was not inclined to be verbally violent either. I was triggered, but I still valued all of them. The point is, that there is a slow burning fury in me that I am always trying to dampen. But, an overwhelming feeling of resentment fans the embers if I let bullies, mockers, hecklers, and parasites near me. This sarcastic lad was facing someone with a high IQ and an extremely strong desire to defend himself. He had no idea. To him, I am just someone with no education at all, because I am not at school. However, I would lose a verbal argument because it is likely that he would not be able to understand me speaking from experience. It would simply become nonsense after a while.
I could have harangued him and brought shame on him for his silly attitude. I could have convinced at least some of the watching crowd that he is pathetic and disruptive, even narcissistic in wanting to be the centre of attention. I didn’t. Not because I care whether any onlookers would gauge me as a tyrannical bully or as someone spreading scorn on him too thickly. No, because it would serve no purpose. Instead I said to his peers, “This lad might appear to be foolish, but he has a quality that I admire and these days rarely find. He has listened to me and accepted responsibility for his actions, and he has apologised. In business, it is vitally important to accept responsibility for our actions. Good luck.” Nobody spoke and I rode away.
At home, I replayed the scene over and over again, as is my wont. I could improve my approach in addressing young lads. I could watch myself to make sure I am not patronising. I am pretty sure that the sarcastic lad felt a bit humiliated by my boorish monologue. I could have finished by saying, “Some of you think I am a fool but you might want to think about what I am doing wrong and try to understand how you would do it differently.”
Study with the Open University has armed me with two questions that I could use to fend off scorn. The second, I think, is the key to undoing verbal attacks if it is considered by the attacker.
‘What did I just say?’ and ‘Why did I say it?’ Even by itself, the second question acts as a derailment of a continuous train of invective.
These lads might be amenable to such questions. Despite children being forced to attend some form of training up to the age of eighteen, these lads were interested in their chosen subjects. I would not expect to find them in the village recreation ground drinking cider or getting stoned. I doubt if I would be strong enough to hold my tongue if twelve lads were truculently abusive, such as I once was.
Ultimately, I could have shut the sarcastic lad down by saying “I am talking to these two lads. You have come up and listened. I let you listen but it is not right that you should comment on a conversation to which you are not included. You are only part of an uninvited audience.”