One of Ralph's buddies explained things to me. "Ralph, you see, fancies himself an elder statesman in the jazz scene, so he figures that who he greets and how he greets them confers a certain anointment and validation. He wasn't sure you'd earned a full level of public respect from him."
"But," I replied, "I wasn't looking to be anointed. I was just saying hi." Ralph's friend shrugged helplessly. This is how it parses to Ralph. It had nothing to do with what I was looking for. I was hardly in this movie. This is the Ralph movie.
A week later, I bumped into Ralph in a Chinese restaurant. "Hey, Jim!" he chirped. I glanced at him cooly, nodding imperceptibly before turning away. I didn't run into him again for thirty years, whereupon he was still furious about the slight. He wouldn't look at me or talk to me, the ogre who'd dissed him. I never expected him to make the connection of his behavior in his sphere of influence to my behavior in mine, but I certainly never expected any of this to rock his world.
After a long period of unilateralism, I've started leaning into this behavior. I remain non-reactive, and always try to help where I can. I don't act spitefully or hold vendettas, and don't sneer or raise my voice. But I’ve begun to follow the playbook I'm handed. As with Ralph, I mirror. Not with venom or malice. Certainly no extra "oomph" to prove the point. I let people set the rules of engagement, and I amiably follow along. I reciprocate.
Since COVID quarantine, people feel less obligated to reply to one other. They don't answer messages if they're busy, or distracted, or didn't fully understand or approve of what was said. They'll let it go if they don't detect an immediate deliverable. And sometimes they don't reply just because.
I was eager to try this out for myself. It seemed like it might be liberating! So I did an experiment with a couple of longtime friends who'd grown less and less engaging, and declined to reply to each of them just once.
I never heard from either of them ever again.
I stoically followed the Golden Rule for my long unilateral period. But I eventually realized that it doesn't work if there's only one person doing it. As I wrote in The “Golden Rule” is Loftily Unattainable (I'd suggest reading the whole thing; it's short):
When the Bible suggested doing to others as you would have them do to you, it turns out this wasn't a helpful reminder. I always figured it was like "Sit up straight" or "Eat more vegetables"—a sappy homily people sometimes need reinforced, despite its blatant obviousness.
No. I see now that it was flabbergasting existential judo—a Copernican flip of perspective. And it was received as a lofty principle which, like other forms of godliness, could only be aspired to, and never put into actual practice.
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