bully management (efectul 3leimedia II)

This is an article I started a while back as the continuation of another, but abandoned before completion. The article no longer reflected my feelings, it seemed exaggerated and somewhat hysterical. I rediscovered it recently, as I needed a reference buried in it.

Dupa ce-am explicat cat ii de fain google ca agregator, ar fi cazul sa va spun si de ce. Poate-i vin mintile la cap, zic.

Ca si dincolo, incep cu un cantecel cubano, pe care-l poti schimba cu alte versiuni (Afrocubism, los original, saquito, saquito 99, eliades, celina, india), chan chan, a2 si-agiunge!

Ramane un mister de ce e omul cu pricina atat de inversunat.. Inclin sa cred ca motivul e ca de cate ori ne-am incordat in coarne el a iesit cam.. well.. prost. Chit ca eu n-am facut decat sa-i explic rational de ce ii. E-un pic ca prietenul cu poemul de la reuniune din Grosse Pointe Blank (nu cel cu cafteala, cu convenience store in loc de-acasa, nu ala mic, celalalt; in fine, nu gasesc clipul, dar ideea este ca el crede ca avem un conflict cand de fapt noi n-avem nici unul). Script-ul nu intra in detalii cu privire la dialog, din pacate.

The following is quite well acted and may serve as a blueprint for any ideal reunion with a former (or current) bully.

INT. HALLWAY - SAME

               Martin senses he is not alone. He turns to find Bob 
               Destephano. The big man holds a glass unsteadily and slurs 
               slightly when he speaks. Bob is looking sad and scary. He 
               leans into Martin

                                     BOB
                         So. You and Debi. Gonna hit that 
                         shit again?

                                     MARTIN
                         Fine, Bob. How are you?

                                     BOB
                         Never better.

                                     MARTIN
                         Really?

               Bob crumbles.

                                     BOB
                         Ahhh... it's all fucked up. Nothing 
                         adds up to nothing... you work your 
                         whole life, day in and day out-- try 
                         to make sense of it all. One day 
                         you're twenty-seven and what do you 
                         get to show for it...

                                     MARTIN
                         You could've been a contender, huh?

               Bob realizes he can't even express his own tragedy without 
               the use of cliches.

                                     BOB
                         Smart boy. Real smart. Let's see how 
                         smart you are with my foot up your 
                         ass! I'm gonna kick your ass!

               Martin steps to Bob.

                                     MARTIN
                         Why would you want to hit me, Bob? 
                         Do you really believe that there's 
                         some stored up conflict that needs 
                         resolution between us? We don't exist. 
                         There's nothing between us. So who 
                         do you want to hit, Bob? It's not 
                         me.

               Bob slumps against the lockers, deflated.

                                     BOB
                         What am I gonna do?

                                     MARTIN
                         What do you want to do?

                                     BOB
                         I want to be an actor.

                                     MARTIN
                         Then express yourself, Bob.

               Bob frowns, trying to think of a way to express himself.

                                     MARTIN
                              (catching him)
                         Be honest...

               Bob backs up and lets out a huge, drunken caveman scream, 
               then stops abruptly, and smiles.

                                     BOB
                         Later, Martin.

               Bob backpedals down the hallway and out of sight. Martin 
               watches him stumble out of the hallway and bang through the 
               doors of a stairwell, disappearing.

               INT. STAIRWELL - CONTINUOUS

               Bob slams through the doors and begins to stumble down the 
               stairs. He encounters Debi, on her way up. He glances at her 
               but does not break stride. Debi gives him wide berth, and 
               quickens her pace up the stairs...

So maybe you’re wondering how is this connected to the present? Simple. I’ve met another bully.

As translated in “don’t be a pheasant” from the older marine advice to young men,

25. When you become a man in full, know that people will get in your way. People who are attracted to you will somehow manage to step in your path. Gay guys will give you “the look.” Old people will somehow stumble in front of you at the worst time. Don’t get frustrated. Just step aside and go about your business. Know that these are passive aggressive methods to get you to acknowledge their existence.

This one is either in his late teens or in his early 20s, he works as a cleaner in my hostel and has the feeling I don’t “respekt” him. (This would’ve be a great opportunity for me to practice “establishing rapport” with kids with whom I have little in common, but I chose not to exercise it, as I’ve been too busy establishing rapport with chicks his age.) He purposely walks like a bipedal bear, he leans forward aggressively when talking to people and most likely had an alco(/ass)holic father. We haven’t talked much but when we do, he seems oddly uneasy. Though our age differential is sufficient for me to adopt a somewhat fatherly attitude, I didn’t, preferring instead to fall into the default, easy to manage “polite customer” role. This may have confused him and possibly annoyed him as it may have brought back echoes of the distant, apparently well-behaved but intimately-abusive father.

Anyway, one day, when I was just talking with a German girl with the sun in her eyes in the common room, he walks in and, as I lay my eyes on him, he gestures toward me with his thumb and index in a circle, most likely signifying “getting pussy”. Before I got to see / understand his gesture, I greet him with a polite “good morning”. As I had broken eye contact with the German girl (Katy?), she also turns toward him and she may have seen his gesture, causing him to feel exposed / ashamed.

He explodes in a bunch of insults toward me (can’t recall, but the words “arrogant asshole” may have been uttered). I was quite surprised and perhaps that’s why I didn’t understand everything. Anyway, as I tried to figure out what had happened, I found myself describing the scene from Grosse Pointe Blank to Aaron (an Aussie Don Juan).

Which is why I’m publishing this older story now.

Sources / More info: gpb-script, step, boots

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