Yeah, I’ll try to manage that.
He took the picture, and, true to his word, he left. He called someone else from his agency to follow me home, so technically, he kept his promise. For the next three weeks or so, someone was outside my apartment. What they didn’t count on was my god-given ability to stay indoors and do nothing. The real beauty of it was I didn’t even have to alter my behavior. I wasn’t holed up Waco-style; I was just doing me. Every now and then a similar thing will happen. I’ll notice a strange car outside, and, as an experiment, I’ll take a trip to Home Depot, and when the car follows me, I think, Looks like a two-week stretch of takeout and Netflix is in order; this poor man doesn’t know who he’s dealing with.
On Being Nice
The word “nice” means a couple different things for me now. In one area of my life, I can earn this descriptor very easily, almost too easily. People I meet who want to say hello or take a picture often say, “You’re so nice.” Don’t worry—never once have I deluded myself into thinking I’ve done something to deserve this compliment. It’s often said after a twenty-second interaction at a restaurant or in a hotel lobby. I could have no other redeeming qualities, but I’m “nice” as long as I haven’t crippled a bellboy.
Don’t get me wrong, I find it incredibly sweet that anyone would say it, and I get that maybe they don’t mean anything more than “Thanks” but it comes out “You’re so nice.” Plus, people have said some weird-ass shit to me over the years, so I will take “You’re so nice” ANY day.
In a professional sense, “nice” is harder to earn. Harder for me anyway. Because “nice” often means she did what we told her to, no questions asked. I’ve seen nice defined as: In working with XXXXX, I encountered no conflict which might have forced me to acknowledge this person as a fellow human capable of discomfort or creative input. Not all people in my industry feel this way—certainly none of the people I’ve talked about in this book—but many do. This is highlighted by the fact that, in the professional realm, the opposite of nice is not “mean”; the opposite of nice is “difficult.”
Ninety percent of the people I’ve worked with who are disruptive or lazy or unskilled or addicts or likely to throw a tantrum are men. Ninety percent of the ones who get called “difficult” are women. Lest we be besmirched with that most damning label, it feels imperative that we strive for “nice.” When I’m put in an uncomfortable position or when someone asks something of me that I feel borders on taking advantage, the threat of “so nice” being snatched away from me hangs in the air. Should I stand my ground, or be a doormat? How many concessions would I have to make, how much crap would I have to swallow to stay a “nice girl”? Usually more than I am willing.
Women encounter this in social situations as well. Let me take you out. Don’t be so uptight. Just have one more drink. And if you don’t, someone might strip you of an adjective you’ve been convinced has value, and label you as something else. Professional people are usually clever enough not to use this term, but in social situations, the threatened brand is “bitch.”
As Sondheim said, Nice is different than good. Do you need to do whatever you’re told to be a nice person? Maybe. Do you need to do whatever you’re told to be a good person? Of course not! Man, woman, personal, professional—some people have a skill for persuading you the best thing you can be is obedient.
A woman I was about to work with told me she’d been asking around about me. She said someone described me as “ten percent defiant.” She was quick to point out she didn’t think they’d meant it as a criticism. I was quick to point out I didn’t take it as one.
I gave up on being Nice. I started putting more value on other qualities instead: passion, bravery, intelligence, practicality, humor, patience, fairness, sensitivity. Those last three might seem like they are covered by “nice,” but make no mistake, they are not. A person who smiles a lot and remembers everyone’s birthday can turn out to be undercover crazy, a compulsive thief, and boring to boot. I don’t put a lot of stock in nice. I’d prefer to be around people who have any of the above qualities over “niceness,” and I’d prefer it if that applied to me, too. I’m also okay if the most accurate description of me is nervous, and a little salty. But at least I know what I want to strive for.
award shows