Big mistake

We all make mistakes when dealing with conflict. I try to minimise mine, but I still make my fair share. Whenever I make a tactical error in court, I go home and conduct a post mortem. I make sure it never happens again. It’s one thing to make a mistake, it’s shameful to repeat it. My friends think I’m too hard on myself, but my philosophy is that you have to be. All else is weakness, and weakness is failure. Don’t get me wrong: we all have limitations. But you have know what they are, and make the most of what you have. In that way your limitations need not translate to weakness.
     Of course a lot of people don’t bother to think about these things. They wouldn’t last a day in my sensei’s dojo. That’s exactly the type of loser that I encountered coming out of court. I was running late for my lunch meeting with my wife, Lana. We met every Tuesday at 1.10 p.m. Norrmally I’m never late, but I did warn Lana that the trial could go over.
     I was rushing through the lobby and I noticed a couple of punks also making their way to the exit. A tall pale-looking youth was coming in the opposite direction through the glass sliding door. I saw that they were going to collide; neither the youth nor the leading punk was looking where he was going. The youth appeared to be reading the notice board in the lobby. The punk was looking over his shoulder shouting obscenities at his mates and waving his hands angrily. He was obviously upset because of something that had happened to him in court.
     The collision was quite forceful. I was only metres away when it happened so I could see clearly how the punk swung around in a loose and undisciplined manner, straight into the tall youth. I could hear the thud of shoulder against shoulder and see the shock on both their faces. The punk recovered more quickly and immediately started hurling abuse at the youth.
     “Why don’t you watch where you’re f*ing going you f*ing c*t!” he said.
     The pale youth mumbled, “Sorry mate, take it easy.”
     I thought it might end there but the punk seemed buoyed by the way the youth had stumbled back. He gave the youth a sharp push, shifting him backwards into the path of the glass door which slid open, but not fast enough, so that the youth’s shoulders caught the glass, making it shudder.
     Again: “Why don’t you f*ing watch where you’re f*ing going.”
     “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
     I decided to step in. Sensei used to say that the best way of managing conflict is to avoid it altogether. Take no action, he would say. I have always interpreted that to mean ‘take no action unless it is necessary’. In this case I didn’t want to let the punk get away with his behaviour. It was necessary for me to set him straight and, if he wanted to get physical, I could handle him without harming him.
     “What’s your problem?” asked the punk, frowning at me. Through the corner of my eye I saw the pale youth disappearing into the small crowd that had gathered.
     “I wanted to say that it was just an accident. You both weren’t looking.”
     “Mind your own fucking business, Mr. Lawyer. You’re a lawyer aren’t you?” His face twisted into a knot of contempt. Clearly he was beyond reason, still smarting over whatever happened in court.
     “I was just trying to say that it wasn’t anyone’s fault...” My tone was conciliatory, friendly even. The punk however sidled up to me slowly, his mouth slightly open, his eyes glaring. When he spoke, the words came out with the force and spittle of disgust.
     “I was just f*ed up by one of you lawyers!”
     “Easy Conrad,” I heard one of his friends say, in a way that conveyed concern for my safety. He was standing right behind Conrad and had his arm on Conrad's shoulder. Yeah take it easy, Conrad. You don’t want to make the biggest mistake of your life. My hands were ready at my sides. One move and I would drop him in his baggy pants. Nonetheless I maintained my pleasant tone and smile.
     “Just trying to help.”
     “F* you Mr. Lawyer!”
     “Come on Conrad, let’s get out of here, man,” said the friend, his brow still creased with concern. Conrad pointed an unsteady finger at me while he was being pulled back by his shirt-tail. “You better watch out Mr. f*ing Lawyer. Watch your f*ing step!”
     At that moment I had enough of his rudeness. He was abusing my every effort to be polite. There are some people who don’t understand anything but force and it was clear to me that Conrad was one of them.
     “Don’t use that language with me, mate. You’re the one who needs to watch his step — and learn some manners.”
     All at once Conrad tore away from his friend and ran up again, slowing just before me, till we were nose to nose.
     “What’s that?”
     Normally I interpret an invasion of personal space as a hostile gesture warranting a swift kick to the groin. In this case I let him come into my personal space because he was no real threat. Yes, I could beat him up if I had to, but there was no point in that. We were hardly evenly matched and I didn’t need the possible legal entanglements. Conrad glared at me, nostrils flaring.
     The stand-off lasted a good ten seconds, although it felt longer. I could hear the receptionist calling security from the enclosed booth.
     “Conrad, man. Come on!” said some punk.
     “Yeah cool it Conrad!” said another. I stayed motionless, feeling Conrad’s panting on my cheeks and not trying to breathe in his stale breath. I decided to walk away. Calmly and slowly, I started for the door, watching him with my peripheral vision. Conrad stayed with me, still trying to ‘eyeball’ me.
     “Hey, I’m talking to you Mr. Lawyer!” I could see his push coming. I let him make contact, riding the force by turning my shoulder till I spun around to face him again.
     “Listen, mate. Forget it. You don’t want to make a big mistake.”
     “You asking for it, hey? You f*ing asking for it?” I backed away raising my hands.
     “I didn’t mean anything, okay?”
     “Let’s go Conrad. He’s not worth it.”
     “I decide if he’s worth it. You piece of shit!” He took a dull swing at me and I moved out of the way so that his fist met sweet air. He stumbled and lost his balance. With just a small tug on his shoulder I helped him to fall onto the marble floor; safely, albeit in the most ungraceful manner. Some teenage girls who were watching started to giggle.
     Seizing the opportunity I slipped out between the sliding doors and into the crowd on Hay Street, effectively losing myself in the lunchtime throng. I dodged and weaved between the bodies and quickly put some distance between myself and the court building. I thought I had left the unfortunate incident behind and was quietly congratulating myself for having avoided a fight after all, when I looked over my shoulder and noticed him stalking me, rudely pushing through the crowd.
     My chambers are only a block away from the courts. I used to meet Lana in the plaza beneath the building. I could see her sitting quite a distance away near the wall. She waved at me and got up, straightening her dress, but I signalled her to stay put: I would have to explain it to her later. I began to run since I knew Conrad was closing the gap. I also knew that Conrad would be stumped when he got in the elevator and found that it took him nowhere without a security key. On the off chance that the lift was delayed, I headed for the stairwell. You can’t gain access from the stairwell without a security key either.
     I took my time on the stairwell. I knew that even if Conrad and his buddies came crashing in they wouldn’t be able to keep up with me. I run up the stairs three times per week for forty minutes, quite apart from my other training. But he never arrived. I climbed five floors hoping to hear the sound of his voice echoing up the concrete walls, but still nothing. Conrad had given up. He clearly didn’t have much stamina. I felt mildly disappointed and went towards my office to drop my briefcase and freshen up. I was confident that Conrad wouldn’t be hanging around waiting for me.
     I was walking through the reception area when my secretary looked up from the call she was taking.
     “Mr. Kovac, there’s a message for you.”
     “I really can’t take it now, Sandy. I’m late already for lunch with Lana,” I said hurrying past.
     “That’s the message. Someone rang to say your wife can’t make it to lunch. I think his name was Conrad.”

Copyright © 1996, 2009 Dejan Djurdjevic