Friday, May 22, 2020

Sorry seems to be the hardest word



Today morning as I stood at my own front door, feeling rather exposed and ashamed in my nighty and with hair that stood on end, one of the housekeeping ladies began to rant at me in Kannada that I only caught the sense of (again another cause for guilt and shame). I just stood there open-mouthed, and felt like I was having an out-of-body experience.

The dregs of sleep still clouded my view of the world that had woken up and got going hours before me. With my late-night habits and frankly nebulous schedule, (and yes, the privilege that comes with being able to sleep in when I liked), I was anyway in a half-sleeping half-waking state, but having the lady completely lose her shit in front of me for the first time in the 6 years I’ve lived here, made for a surreal experience. I felt very little answering anger, just surprise and curiosity at her outburst.
For one, it wasn’t a particularly huge transgression, I had forgotten to leave my pail outside for the second day in a row, and ran to get it only after she rang my bell. There were reasons, though it is of course not something she should care about. Granted. I am usually a rule-abiding person, leaving the bins out well before time and in the ways stipulated by the building association. Their having to ring the bell on 2 consecutive days was irritating no doubt, and slowed them down by about 1 and a half minutes; minutes which snowball into a big backlog I’m sure, given that there are so many flats in one building. Also they work their way downwards from the topmost floor, 9 in our case, and I’m sure the ladies had had to already encounter a few more similarly annoying, entitled residents who had tumbled out of bed and presented their pails sleepily like second-floor-me; when they were breaking their backs living and working from at least 5:30 in the morning.

Not to mention, that in the times of Corona, they were anyway risking their lives dealing with the bins of so many households; being obliged to wear a mask in hot and sweaty conditions. And then there I appear, tousle-headed, well-rested and BARE faced; and it just didn’t seem fair. I can only imagine the new stresses of working an already horrible job.

All those things aside though, it’s obvious that she didn’t stand there yelling at every resident today morning. What startled me about the anger and frustration that came pouring out of her mouth (she was saying she won’t keep doing this, she had work to do, from the next day she would just go, and wouldn’t bother ringing the bell) was that it came immediately after I gave her a sheepish smile and said “Sorry. sorry.” This is what I have been getting at this entire time. It was almost like the apology was what triggered the final explosion.

I honestly don’t know how human beings are in other countries, having only visited some of them briefly. But here apologies are a different beast altogether.

Now let me break down that statement for you as both a serial apologizer and someone who expects formal apologies in return.

I have no idea why, but I have always been the sort who is particular about thanking people or apologizing for even minor things. This isn’t a humble brag, I know perfectly good people who believe that saying ‘thank you’ and ‘sorry’ too much to a person who is close to you is something that gives offense, since it involves being overly formal.

 So, I have been barked at for saying ‘thank you’ “too much” – “Stop saying ‘thank you’ am I not your….?” (insert suitable relationship). But that also means, that if someone has, without a trace of doubt in my mind messed up, and messed up BIG, and everyone is saying so; I am a stickler for a formal apology. They may send me flowers, knit me a sweater or sweetness may run from their mouths like a hive that has sprung a leak. Or, they may turn up two years after completely vanishing, despite requests to explain what I had done wrong, and make fun conversation, acting like everything’s “chill” over cups of coffee. Obviously hoping that I’ll just take the damn hint and move on.

But I need to hear the exact words “I’m sorry”. Most IMPORTANTLY not accompanied by ridiculous gaslighting counter accusations, or some kind of sarcastic twist. A real-life example: “I am sorry that I thought you were close enough to me to understand that I didn’t mean it when I said “You’re a bad mother”. Or, “I’m sorry I sent the message insulting you by name… to you by mistake. I meant to send it to someone else, you weren’t meant to read that.” (again, true story).
No, if it’s an actual, sincere apology; for me, the healing may start all around, and you actually need not knit me that sweater. Give me a little time, and I may forgive you.

But here comes the rub of it. It is perceived as a weakness. He who apologizes, somehow loses in the game of life. It is the social equivalent of an animal avoiding eye contact, tucking it’s tail between its legs and bowing its head in front of an alpha. It is losing one’s self-respect; it is tantamount to falling at another’s feet. It is to show you are weak. So, they will hang on to that apology like it is a piece of their soul, and would rather twist facts into humiliating untruths that reflect badly on them, rather than say those simple words.

Now this philosophy I have never managed to understand. I myself am quick to apologize if I perceive I have done something wrong, or even if I feel I haven’t but the person is hurt. To me, if I genuinely feel bad, it is a much easier way of expressing remorse than knitting someone a sweater; making hideous jokes in a gradually deepening silence, and so on.

‘I’m sorry.’ Easy peasy.

But when I do, it is very often misinterpreted. I have observed that because I use apologetic body language and a remorseful expression, coupled with the universally understood words ‘sorry’; it is as good as a red flashing sign appearing on my forehead. ‘W-E-A-K’.

A corresponding light bulb goes on over their heads. This one looks like the doormat I can finally let all my anger and frustrations out at. Everyone needs that one dim-witted target who doesn’t answer back or take revenge! The miseries, angers, neglect that everyone carries around with them, all comes out then.

All the while, the people who had heaped scorn and pain on them, slamming down the pails belatedly, slamming the doors on their faces, treating them like pariahs, not paying their bonuses; get no word of remonstrance.

After all, at least they did not say, ‘sorry.’



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