Meet grouchy people on their end of the brick wall
As we start the new year — and to give us the best chance possible to make it a good one — we may want to review one of the key rules for success: Learn to get along with hard-to-get-along-with people.
No, Coca-Cola Mike, stop it! You know good and well we’re not talking about the amazin’ blonde when we say that, and I’m a little surprised you even thought that.
But it is true that some people seem to make a living being contrary, difficult, smug, ridiculous, or any number of other adjectives we could conjure up. So, today, we’re going to give a little “pep talk” on how to deal with these people.
In short, it is this: When people make walking a mile with them tough, volunteer to go the second mile. Not that I’ve been that successful at that second mile walk, but I learned to at least try it as a young man. Back in my young, bricklaying days, I worked once with a big, long-haired fella with a bad attitude. He was grouchy from the time he got out of his truck and climbed on the scaffold in the morning until he packed his tools up and climbed down to go home.
I made a point always to be as nice to him as I could and to greet him with a hearty “Good morning!” every day. Of course, at the age of 20, part of that kindness, I’m sure, was due to a desire for self-preservation.
I never got a “good morning” back, maybe just a growl or a groan. And he did his half of the wall all day long, nothing more.
Bricklayers, you see, usually get on a long wall – each starting on different ends – and they lay brick until they meet in the middle. This fella, of course, was about the last guy you’d want to have to meet in the middle, or anywhere else, for that matter. Most of the time he would beat me to the middle and figure he’d done his half of the wall and would turn around and go back to his end and clean his trowel or joint up his work until I caught up. That put me a step behind all day.
Occasionally, though, I’d beat him to the middle of the wall. I hesitated when we got there, thinking, “Ah, I’m goin’ to show him.” But, somehow, I dug down deep enough to find a way to keep laying brick until we met. Then I’d end up laying the “closure.”
The closure brick is that one brick nobody wants to lay. It’s the last one when the two bricklayers meet in the middle of the wall. Having to lay that brick is one of the big disadvantages of being courteous and going ahead and meeting somebody over halfway. It’s the slowest brick to lay, and – if one of the bricklayers is off bond – you may have to adjust a few other bricks to make it fit.
Of all the time my grouchy buddy and I worked together, I don’t think he ever laid the closure. If he beat me to the middle, he went back to the other end and piddled while I finished up.
If I beat him, I kept going until we met, and he always seemed to time it just right so that I’d be the one to lay the last brick. (You know people like that, don’t you!) Then he’d head back early to his end and get a head start on raising his line and getting ready for the next course. Consequently, even when I got ahead, I always managed to stay behind.
I don’t remember the fella’s name, and I don’t remember ever running into him again down the road. I’d love to tell you that all that being nice to him made a difference in him, that one day I climbed up on the scaffold and he said,
“Good morning, kid!” with a pleasant tone to his voice, and added, “Come down here and get some of these donuts I brought cha.”
And I’d love to tell you that all that day he met me way past halfway and volunteered to lay that closure brick, and that occasionally when we met for the last brick that he’d say things like, “Hey, kid, how’re the wife and kids?”
But I don’t remember any of that ever happening. I do wonder if he has mellowed some, and if being nice to him was something he appreciated down deep.
What I know, though, is this: In our lifetime, you and I will meet many a grouchy man in the middle of the brick wall in our day. When we do, it’s best to lay the closure brick and wish him and his family well.
After all, how do you think we’ve gotten along so well with Coca-Cola Mike through the years?