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As I See It: Death of a Thousand Cuts by Victor Rozek At one time or another, we've all been the target of someone's barbed and inventive wit. Perhaps during a staff meeting, or in a classroom, or even within our own family. The setting is usually public, and the comments range from good-natured teasing to hurtful and humiliating remarks masquerading as humor. The workplace is a frequent venue for derision wrapped in friendly banter, and being on the receiving end is like swallowing oatmeal sprinkled with staples.
Exchanging volleys of acerbic repartee is primarily (though not exclusively) a male way of relating to others. Depending on the severity of the insults being exchanged, it is used either to create rapport or to establish superiority. When used by people in positions of authority, such as managers, it is usually intended to reinforce the hierarchy and keep to subordinates in their place. So widespread and common is the practice, that I gave it little thought until I read a small but hugely intelligent and insightful book by Gordon MacKenzie called Orbiting the Giant Hairball. In a chapter called "About Teasing," MacKenzie describes a creativity workshop he was asked to conduct for the MIS people at Hallmark. At some point during the workshop, MacKenzie brought out sheets of drawing paper and a big carton filled with hundreds of crayons. He invited the participants to "make marks on paper that have something to do with who you are and Management Information Systems and Hallmark." He deliberately used the words "make marks" rather than "draw" because, for many people, drawing is full of performance anxiety and judgment and he did not wish to be intimidating. Nonetheless, when everyone had finished and MacKenzie asked if anyone was willing to share his work, only one woman hesitantly stepped forward. But as she presented her drawing to her coworkers and began to explain what she had done, people started teasing her about the quality of her drawing. "A rowdy taunting ensued," recalled MacKenzie, and "there was a stunning shift in the woman's energy from one of delighted sharing to a shame-faced defensiveness." She quickly retreated to the safety and anonymity of the group, and MacKenzie was left to ponder what had just occurred. MacKenzie was once an alcoholic, and he recalled participating in a support group that was discussing the role that shaming plays in families. Shaming, the group discovered, was a strategy used to control the behavior of family members in order to protect the addiction. During that discussion he remembered a man sitting next to him who said, "Teasing is a disguised form of shaming." As he recalled that moment, he said it was as if "one of the long-locked doors in my mind burst open." MacKenzie then shared his newfound insight with the MIS staff, explaining the unconscious cause and inadvertent impact of what had just occurred. He began by admitting that he, too, was a "frenzied teaser." And as he looked back on why he was so habituated to teasing, he discovered it was because he wanted control; and he wanted control because, deep down, he was afraid of other people. "One way of dealing with this fear was to learn the skill of teasing," MacKenzie said. "I learned it well, eventually walling myself off with a bristling armor of barbed banter designed to blunt the power of those countless people I felt threatened by." By keeping people off balance with humor, he was able to reduce the sense of menace, real or potential, that he felt in their presence. This, explained MacKenzie, was exactly what had just happened. One person had made the decision to risk and grow, and that threatened the rest of the MIS community, which did not wish to participate. Teasing was a way of reestablishing the status quo. You've seen this principle in action if you've ever collected crabs at the beach. To keep the crabs from running off, you simply put them in a hole in the sand. Put only one crab in the hole, and it will scurry off. But two or more become self-policing, and if one tries to get out, the others will pull it back in. People, too, are self-policing, and, like crabs, we unconsciously (and sometimes deliberately) pull each other down when one of us dares cause the community discomfort. MacKenzie calls it holding up stop signs. When we shame people through teasing, he told his MIS group, we are, in effect, saying, "Stop risking, stop growing, stop sharing, stop living, because when you finally stop living you will no longer be a threat to me." MacKenzie's assessment may sound overstated, but it is absolutely correct when taken to its logical conclusion. As the issues become more important, the stop signs simply get bigger and more menacing. Note, for example, how whistle-blowers have historically been treated. They are often ridiculed in the media, their character and motives challenged. Mockery and shaming are used to discredit the accuser. But whether it's an orchestrated attack full of venom and ridicule against anyone brazen enough to speak truth to power, or telling someone with the courage to sing in public not to quit his day job, the same principle applies: a desire to control and marginalize. I know I have been harmed by thoughtless comments, and have also been the source of damaging remarks. Perhaps you, too, have been a target, or perhaps you were the heckler. In either case, most of us would claim honorable intentions. After all, teasing and mild ridicule are often done out of affection, or so we tell ourselves. But teasing can become too persistent, with too sharp an edge, and those who, by temperament, do not think quickly on their feet are at a distinct disadvantage. And those with fragile self-esteem are apt to be devastated. Only the object of the teasing really knows when it crosses the line and becomes hurtful. In the workplace, the cash value of finding an alternate way of relating is that rudeness is reported to be responsible for a surprising amount of employee turnover. An extensive survey conducted by the University of North Carolina found that 12 percent of employees changed jobs after being subjected to repeated rudeness and mild, non-sexual harassment. Almost none of the survey's participants had reported the incidents to management. To a third party, they probably would appear too inconsequential. From this we can conclude at least two things: that the impact of casual office banter is much more profound than we realize, and that people, it appears, are more sensitive and private than we think. In Shakespeare's The Tempest, Sebastian warns, "He's winding up the watch of his wit; by and by it will strike." May it strike gently.
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Last Updated: 9/3/02 Copyright © 1996-2008 Guild Companies, Inc. All Rights Reserved. |