Are You People-Friendly?

A short while ago, there was an activity I was part of: about fifteen or twenty people participated in what I would call a survey, though it wasn't one, in a strict sense. It involved some questions, quite ordinary and normal, that they had to answer about themselves. As fate would have it, I was asked to compile the replies and do whatever the next step entailed. 

As I worked on them, I began to notice a curious pattern. In the section where they were asked to write about themselves and explain their strengths and weaknesses, almost everyone had written that they were “people-friendly”. Some used words like “a people person” or “warm-hearted” or “likeable” or “pleasant to be with” or “loveable” to describe themselves. Some even went so far as to claim that they were known to defuse tensions and dispel arguments between co-workers, and to arrive at solutions in a way that was acceptable to everyone. In short, the participants of that survey seemed to believe that they were great with people. 

Now, except for one or two, I know them rather well. I also happen to know how they are perceived by others. Which is why it came as a surprise to me that a couple of them considered themselves “much loved by everyone”. It was an open secret that they were generally disliked by most others they interacted with. So much so that, as the story goes, people broke up friendships and acquaintances, and left organisations to get away from them. There were others considered “suck-ups”, eager to please, desperately trying to cosy up to their seniors. There was no way they were oblivious to this. But so it was, apparently.

We all think we’re kind, likeable—but are we really?

It opened my eyes to what I always hear, yet never truly understood: how we see ourselves and how others see us are two different things. 

On the other hand, however, I saw it as a wonderful thing that a person could believe they were well-liked, even when they were not. Knowing how despised they were might drive them to depression. 

How is it possible that we completely miss it? Or are we in denial of the truth that is staring at us? Do we tell ourselves, “This is an isolated incident; I made a mistake and the others will see that my intentions were honourable”? 

Or, perhaps we refuse to accept how aggressive or intrusive or disrespectful or condescending we are, sometimes repeatedly, despite having the best of intentions. We think we’re being nice, or kind, or polite, or... friendly. We cannot see ourselves the way others see us.

It’s probably a survival instinct. If we realise how we are perceived, we might be tempted to hate ourselves and give up on our passions. We’re shielded so that we can carry on.

One reason for this could be that people speak about others behind their backs. Of course, we all know it. We wear a mask with a smile affixed on it when we face those we don't like; get across whatever interaction is needed, and then go to our friends and whine about how horrible the whole episode had been. Think about it - that's what we do to them; that's what they do to us. We may confront them once or twice, but mostly we try to avoid a showdown. Badmouthing them later is easier.

If there is a hierarchy involved, the one at the bottom might decide it is not worth fighting and give in, after a while. We remain quiet, hoping that our silent disagreement will be noted, but all they hear is that “since no further argument is forthcoming, the problem is resolved”. Sometimes we say little and mean much. A well-delivered “Fine!” could carry the power of a rifle shot but if the recipient heard it as an agreement to his or her comment, then it vanishes in a puff of air. 

It happened to me once. I resisted a particular allegation from a senior and tried to defend myself, but he wasn't hearing any of it. He came armed with more accusations that were unfounded, and in the end, I was fed up with the whole affair. On the verge of despair, deciding that I was merely wasting my time as well as ruining my peace of mind, I said, “OK”. I believed my loaded “OK” meant, “Whatever. I don't agree with you, but I am terminating this argument here because I don't believe this is getting us anywhere. I hope someday you will see the truth and how right I was-” and so forth. 

Well, what do you know. Apparently the senior told someone, “I spoke to her and sorted things out, and she agreed.”

All I could do was, go to my friend and vent, and badmouth him to my heart’s content. 

I am ready to bet my life that the senior believes he is a “people person” who has the skill to “efficiently manage disagreements”. 

Jeena R. Papaadi is a writer based in Bengaluru and Thiruvananthapuram. Views expressed by the author are their own. This article is a part of our ongoing series Dissent Dispatch, in collaboration with Usawa Literary Review.