Last fall I went to the bank, and for the first time in a long time I felt really respected. So, naturally, I adopted the role of king, proceeded to ascend my ivory tower, took my seat at the throne, and talked down to my naive subject. I am not proud of it, but that’s what happened when I let the process unfold without intervention. In this particular situation, I saw my reactivity start to occur, and I decided to investigate and learn rather than course correct as I normally would while trying to be mindful of my behavior. By watching our habitual response patterns, we can hear the truth of any situation, and continue to embody the loving presence we wish to maintain.
So, what happened? Let’s go on a trip through the ol’ thought process. Note that I don’t think I’m necessarily “right” about all my assessments here; the “rightness” isn’t the point, it’s that we need to look deeper to find the truth about life and how we relate to it.
I had set up a meeting to discuss how to manage my finances after having recently sold my house and finalized my divorce. Financial investments were not my strong suit, so I was looking for some advice on how to get a return on my existing funds while I figured things out. Speaking of figuring things out, I found out that bankers will treat you really well if you’re dressed nicely and a new potential customer with cash from a house sale. Who would have thought?
As I met with my banker, his genuine-feeling warmth surprised me. My standard bank visits had always been matter-of-fact, get you in and get you out, a “take care of whatever inconsequential business you need to complete and let me move on to a preferred client” sort of transaction. But this time was different; in fact my banker seemed downright jolly to see me. Honestly it was nice to be treated that way, regardless of the reason. I’m not one to flaunt myself in expensive clothing, and I’ve always worked for nonprofits, so I’m just not the type of person a banker would normally prioritize. But in this case, I felt respected.
In the beginning of this exchange, it was clear to me that the banker was trying to feel me out, to understand my motivations and preferred style of communication. Since this entailed a very friendly approach, the conversation began on a slower, more lighthearted beat. I started out matching this level of intensity, but as I felt the deferential attitude, I saw my own behavior start changing. I didn’t stop it, because it didn’t seem particularly harmful and I wanted to observe my tendencies play out. Gosh this mindfulness stuff is fun, isn’t it?
I reflected on the situation, and here’s what I came up with. Upon entering that office, I suddenly became in a position of power. I had something they wanted—money and my business—and they didn’t know enough about me to know that I wasn’t *actually* a good target. They didn’t know that this was my life savings from a divorce and house sale; to them, it might be the amount that I earned in the last year or two, I could be some tech bro pulling in loads of cash while spending it all each year. Or I could own a house in the Bahamas, who knows. They didn’t know that I’ve worked for meager wages in the nonprofit sector for most of my life. They didn’t know that I wouldn’t be bringing in large sums of money, that I always paid off my credit cards, that I wasn’t a big spender, that I wouldn’t be worth their time.
But when I received that warm welcome, and his full and undivided attention, coupled with my realization that I was in the driver’s seat and had the benefit of situational knowledge that he was not privy to, well, my brain took over and ran with it. Again, it’s like I’m watching this happen from the background, like this is a movie that I could stop and take control of at any point, but that is too fascinating to mess with. I noticed that a few minutes into the conversation, it was almost like a switch flipped, and I went into work professional mode. My brain had decided that I was going to play my role. After all, how often could I expect this kind of treatment in life? Let’s have some fun with it, and learn some lessons at the same time.
I became very deliberate with my needs and preferences. I allowed a short amount of chitchat, being polite and replying to some banter offered by the banker, but I kept a very tight lid on the direction of the conversation. My voice became strong and confident (how funny it is to think that I have access to this voice all the time!), and I quickly returned any deviations from my core needs back to the matter-of-fact details. I became a full-fledged corporate executive, inconvenienced by trivial details and clearly raring to get back to my important and high-paying workday.
The banker noticed this behavior swing. He could see that I was articulating myself well, exuding confidence. I could see the wheels turning in his mind; possibly he was thinking, hmm, excellent, I’m glad I came into this exchange overly professional yet friendly, looks like this guy might be the real deal and worth our while. And so he sharpened up even more, for the most part. But he couldn’t resist bringing up references to some of the nonessential banter he had introduced earlier on, again no doubt trying to be an ideal blend of professional and friendly.
At this point, I saw annoyance start to arise in the background of my mind, bringing with it the impulse to end the conversation. To rip the bandaid off without regard for any hairs that might get pulled out in the process. This guy was going too far in the direction of things that I didn’t care about. My time was too important to listen to this. I cut him off.
Yeesh! That was quite a reaction to have, and it speaks to the power of what our brains will do in the name of fitting the character we think we’re supposed to play. Simply embodying the role of powerful executive, even briefly, made me start acting the part, made me a self-pretentious asshole who doesn’t give others the time of day. Thankfully I was doing this all as an exercise, and thus was being very self-aware and conscious of what was happening…but what if I wasn’t? How many times each day do we unconsciously act out our prescribed role at any given moment?
Obviously I was not happy with the reaction that my brain was enacting. And so I took some time to investigate what was happening, to assess the situation. I recalled that he had been friendly, helpful, and informative up to that point, sans a bit of the aforementioned banter. He had adjusted to my tempo and met it well, all things considered. Maybe he didn’t act or speak *exactly* as I thought he should, but c’mon, that’s a ridiculous bar to set. So why had I sought to end the conversation?
At this point I realized that my reactivity was not driven by any need to arrive at a different meeting or appointment, but merely from the desire to avoid what could have turned into a much longer pitfall of a discussion. And I realized that these feelings of annoyance and the ensuing desire to end the conversation had very little to do with the actual specific details of what was happening in that moment, but were rather simply a conditioned response that I had developed over the years I had spent working at conferences and events. Whether you’re demoing free veg food while educating the public about factory farming, or hosting an organization’s table at a conference, you run into people who will suck your time and energy if you let them. In order to maximize the good you can do, you have to watch for these people, and sometimes mercilessly cut those exchanges short. To be fair the reasons for this came from good intentions—being tied up with a single talker could make you miss a dozen other potential converts, and on top of that it tires you out in a way where you might not be as convincing to other people later on.
As a quick sidebar—as if my overly analytical article needed more analytical sidebars—in writing this, I find myself now wondering about the behavior that I exhibited in those past environments. At the end of the day, it feels like it was the kind thing to do, because I was acting in ways that would allow me to help more animals and reduce more suffering. Otoh, it doesn’t feel very compassionate to essentially discard a person. And by acting that way in the past, I had internalized those behaviors and was now on a path where my auto-pilot directed them to arise without my permission. I am not ok with that! And I and others will ultimately suffer more for these types of blind reactivity.
Take this situation. There’s simply no need to go in a direction that causes tension and ill will. If we simply mindfully listen to the conversation, and are there for what is being communicated, then we see things clearly, we see things for their unique nature. We don’t unconsciously put them into categories, we don’t act on auto-pilot. Sure, there are conversations we should leave sooner than others, but we must practice mindful listening in order to make sure we pick the right ones and don’t miss the moments that can show us, that can remind us, of the humanity of each individual. That there are people who don’t share our experiences or our views, who may have even been brainwashed by the various waves of propaganda that we’re assaulted with every day, but who don’t need to offend us, at least not nearly as much as we let them or perhaps even at all. This keeps us separate, it keeps us divided.
Given the systems we live with, now more than ever in our history, we need to seek and expand on existing opportunities to connect with other humans, even those, or especially those, that we might not normally correspond with. Because it’s in doing this that when we’re on opposing sides of the aisle and trying to figure out the best solution to a problem, we can remember and relish in our shared humanity. We recognize the other side has struggles. We understand that there are reasons for their beliefs and desires, that they are in the same boat of life that we are.
Of course this is particularly difficult with some individuals and groups. I’d like to claim that I could go and talk peacefully and rationally with a hate group, but I don’t know that I could. Or that I should; sometimes people are too far gone, sometimes it does make sense to walk away. I’m not going to convince Donald Trump of anything. But there are other options than simply ignoring or hating those individuals. The truth is that the people or groups who commit hateful acts are doing so because on some level, in some way, they are suffering. It might not be obvious but that’s what’s going on. Donald Trump might have been born rich but he had a really messed up childhood, he had a harsh uncaring father, he has genes that predispose him to certain behaviors, and ultimately he feels unloved and eternally seeks external validation that never satisfies. None of that excuses the things that he does, but it can shift how we view him. We might not be able to send him love, but we can wish for him to be free of the suffering that causes his behavior. We can wish for him to be free of ignorance.
Every choice we make matters. The more we view “the other side” with love, compassion, and understanding, the more that becomes our default way of interacting with the world. This helps us grow, and it helps us live happier, more fulfilling lives.
But I digress, this blog wasn’t meant to be about the extreme cases. This blog is about the hundreds and thousands of interactions we experience each year as we go through our lives, but choose not to examine. The ones where we’re content with letting the brain relax and take shortcuts, where we fail to realize that we’re reinforcing certain behaviors and increasing the likelihood that they occur in the future without our consent. We have a choice, each interaction, to show up or not show up. The more we show up, the more we stop the thought train of judgment arising, the more we see it before it takes over, and the more we truly tune into the conversation we’re having—tuning into a better understanding of those around us, and tuning into our true self, into compassion and wisdom.
As I parted ways with the banker, I made sure to express my sincere appreciation for his assistance. He was unknowingly part of a test, and I was grateful for his participation. The interaction provided a useful reflection that I’ll take with me into each future exchange, where I’ll do my best to be present while keeping an eye out for habitual reactivity. There are countless lessons available to us each and every day, if only we take a closer look. Listen well, and you’ll hear the truth.