An Awakening

I'm not always the greatest at reading people, sometimes I can be fairly accurate, fairly quick- other times, blind as a fuckin' bat. In other words... like most people. Naturally, it behooves those who grow up or live in high risk areas to have an acute sense of who they're dealing or interacting with. Likewise, portrait oriented photographers best know the rudimentary aspects of dealing with people if they want successful images. And workers must learn to deal with fellow workers and supervisors to remain viable in the workplace.

There's a certain supervisor I'll refer to in the form of the gender, non specific they. I've both liked and despised this person, and was never quite able to figure out the exact mechanism that triggered the occasional, but strong, unambiguous dislike. We would often do this little dance whenever they 'corrected' me- and I would have to make sure to restrain my emotion, my volume, my overall composure. If I raised my voice, coarsened my language, I would automatically lose- so I played their game and responded in kind, knowing that while I would never concede defeat, I would never win at their slow burn game of deception.

As my supervisor, clearly they had the upper hand, but there was more... they were always super polite, hospitable even (if always at the distance) and super soft spoken, even when delighting in being the most despicable passive/aggressive dickwad imaginable. And that's what really threw me, what I could never quite put my finger on! Usually there's some kind of tell, however small, a noticeable something- a change of tone, inflection or facial expression, a hint of sarcasm. But not here- even keel and smooth sailing throughout, the transition flawless... Suave! One cool as shit, low key, mind fuck- kinda like Mr. Rogers telling ya to go fuck yourself as he smiles and waves goodbye from the TV screen.

Of course, as a worker, I'm hardly in a position to win any of our differences. But having discovered the technique, masterful as it once was, the spell was broken, the mystery no more. From master of deceit, to one transparent as glass motherfucker- and frankly I'm ashamed it took me as long as it did. In CA they like to smile while they twist the knife in your back, and they were better than most. In NY, they may be all in your face- but they're honest about it. Take that any day of the goddamn week.