Speaking up
I’ve always been someone who knows herself well. Or so I thought.
I know I’m a quiet person. I don’t like speaking in a room full of people. And I really hate confrontation. Or so I thought.
Being quiet doesn’t mean I don’t like to talk. It simply means I don’t like to be loud.
Speaking in public is probably my biggest fear. I’ve made a little progress overcoming my anxiety during the past two or three years, but the possibility of having to speak in front of as few as a dozen can still prompt the contents of my stomach to vacate their premises in a most repugnant and unladylike fashion.
And about confrontation–I often go to extremes to avoid it. I don’t like to argue, don’t like tense situations or even mild disagreements. I have enough drama in my life without being combative. Usually, if I can’t avoid, I acquiesce.
I admit it isn’t the best way to be. To avoid confrontations, I sometimes tolerate behavior that I shouldn’t (then later can’t stop thinking of all the things I wish I had said).
These are times of road rage and Jerry Sprenger entertainment. Confrontation phobics like me placate ourselves by pretending our silence is a matter of self-preservation. I suspect apathy and fear deserve equal blame.
Recently, my husband, daughter, her best friend and I went to the movies, a crowded afternoon matinee of “Fantastic Four, Rise of the Silver Surfer.” About ten minutes into the show, a family entered–mom, dad, and two children–a boy about four, and another little boy about 18 months old. For the next several minutes, they made so much noise getting settled and opening their food that, rather than say anything, we chose to quietly move several rows back.
The disturbance this family caused only increased. The little boy talked loud, the mom answered at the same level, and the baby yelled, cried, screamed.
Even though the seats all around them were crowded, no one spoke up.
After 45 minutes, when the baby’s shrieks reached a level where the onscreen explosions were being completely drowned out, this quiet person had enough.
I don’t know what got into me. Like I said, it’s completely unlike me to speak up, but I suddenly found myself on my feet in that room full of people, loudly asking the woman to take her child out.
She stood and turned around, hands on ample hips, head waggling loose on her neck, and said, “You better not be talking to me.”
“I am talking to you,” I said. “You need to take your baby out. We all paid the same as you to watch this movie and he’s ruining it for everyone.”
Now this is the point where I expected at least a few of those people sitting in the rows between her and me to speak up. They’d been sighing loudly, complaining to their companions, and mumbling about getting the manager, but now that the ball was rolling, they just sat there and watched.
The woman challenged me to come down there and make my complaint to her face. Thoroughly believing in my “cause,” I–a confrontation-hating person half her size who would not stand a chance-started down. My husband held me back. Her husband did the same with her. He also took the baby and quieted him. The remainder of the movie was uneventful.
I thought I knew myself well, but I’d completely surprised myself by speaking up. I was surprised, too, but how good it felt.
It’s far too easy to sit back and wait for someone else to take action, for them to right the wrongs that rankle. It’s easy to call Reader’s Voice complaining about the weeds on some vacant lot and tell ourselves that we’re actually contributing, that we’re making the world better. But it’s the person who pulls those weeds that makes the real contribution.
Sure, it was just a movie, but it opened my eyes and made me realize that it’s what we don’t do and don’t say-and what we allow to be said and done-that can cause the most harm. The peace and quiet that comes from tolerance and indifference and apathy isn’t lasing.
Einstein wrote, “The world is a dangerous place to live; not because of the people who are evil, but because of the people who don’t do anything about it.”
I will always be a quiet person. I doubt I’ll ever like speaking in a room full of people. And I will always-<I>always<P>-hate confrontation.
But I hope I’ll never again allow my fears to prevent me from doing what’s right.
July 21st, 2007 at 1:33 pm
I’m glad you spoke up and learned something new about yourself.
A suggestion though, from a different perspective. If I were in the theater, the verbal confrontation between you and the other woman standing and arguing with each other would have aggrivated me more than the family’s noise, if I’m being completely honest.
IF someone in a theater is annoying and can’t settle down to where it is disrupting the movie, I’ll get up and quickly call in the usher or manager to ask them to quiet down.
I am not sure why mention of the woman’s size two times in your column is relevant? Did it frighten you that she was large?
July 22nd, 2007 at 4:45 pm
I completely disagree with the other comment left. I would have done the exact same thing. As for the part in the column about the woman’s size, I just thought of it as a way to describe the woman, to paint a picture.
July 22nd, 2007 at 7:18 pm
I alluded to the woman’s size because I felt it played a part in the story. She was a big woman (tall, broad shouldered, extremely tough looking) and she was obviously accustomed to intimidating people with her size and doing as she pleased. Speaking up to an average sized or small person wouldn’t have been as intimidating.
Calling in the ushers does little good any more. They’re teenagers. She’s a grown woman. I have, in the past, gone to management to ask for their help. They send someone in to stand there for a few minutes, but the instant they’re gone, the acting up starts all over again. I’ve never seen anyone removed from a theater.
My husband says the reason men didn’t say anything is because if they had, her husband would’ve likely felt he had to take them on in defense of her honor. That kind of makes sense, I suppose.
July 24th, 2007 at 8:21 am
My husband and I went to see a movie a couple of months ago and a young couple with two small children (under 3). Initially they asked for tickets to Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, but were told that there were no more showings that night. (This was after 9:00 pm.) I was tense because I just knew that they were on the brink of making a bad parenting decision. And, lo and behold, the husband said, “Then we’ll take tickets to The Hills Have Eyes 2.”
AAARGGHH!!!! I can’t even stomach watching commercials for gruesome horror movies like that, but when I thought of those sweet little babies being exposed to the whole thing, I got so angry I could hardly contain myself. Unfortunately, I did contain myself- I didn’t say anything (although I’m sure I shook my head disapprovingly- big deal) at all.
Later, I kept thinking of what I should have said or done. I could have gently said, “My husband and I would be happy to take them to see Meet the Robinsons.” I could have said, “Wow. Someone told me that’s a really scary movie, but my kids and I just saw Meet the Robinson’s and it was great!” I could have lectured, judged, cajoled… But I didn’t do anything, and I regret it.
So, thanks for sharing your experience- maybe next time I’ll speak up!
July 24th, 2007 at 10:31 am
Loved it! You are my heroine!
When my kids were little, if they were fussy, I knew to take them outside until they calmed down, and I even knew not to take them places when they were too little to attend. Unfortunately, there are a lot of babies raising babies today. That’s a whole ‘nuther issue.
Anyhow, Go, You Wild Woman, You!!
July 28th, 2007 at 12:15 pm
It seems there’s a lot of people who have no sense of common courtesy when it comes to moviegoing anymore. I had a similar experience of moving to get away from a noisy brood a few years ago when I was reviewing “Shark Tale” for the Gazette.
Then last night at The Simpsons Movie, there was a real live “Cletus the Slack Jawed Yokel” sitting two seats down from Rudy (Panucci of Popcult/Radio Free Charleston fame) and myself.
The comes in right before the movie starts.
Then proceeds to TAKE OFF HIS SHOES and sit there barefoot. THEN….HE MADE FOUR CALLS ON HIS CELL PHONE during the first 5 - 6 minutes of the movie!!
If it’d been an emergency, I could understand. But no–someone called him, then after he finished that up, he starts calling other people!! (”Hey, what’re you doin’? I’m watchin’ The Simpsons…..No, the movie.̶
We were both extremely preturbed by this and were about to take action. But he must’ve got a clue or something, because after the last phone call, he put on his shoes and left.
Karin, you can go to the movies with me anytime!
July 30th, 2007 at 8:53 am
I’ve been so encouraged by the response to this column. (Still getting emails a week later.)
I worked at a movie theater for several years. It was my second job — went straight from one job to the next most nights, but it was so fun there that I didn’t mind being exhausted. The guys that worked there with me regularly checked the theaters, and I don’t remember us hardly every having complaints about bad behavior. Now the theater complexes are so huge I imagine it’s hard to patrol them. (There were just 3 at the one I worked at.)
July 30th, 2007 at 9:22 am
[…] Thirty minutes into the movie, his cell phone rings, and HE TAKES THE CALL. “Heeeeey. I’m a wutchin’ thu Simpsons. No, not thu teevee show. I’m in the movie.” He then cuts short the phone call….and makes three or four outgoing calls. Mel is seething and I’m ready to start screaming “Shut the *bleep* up!” when he suddenly stands up, hangs up the phone, gathers his family and leaves. Until then we were living in Karin Fuller’s theater hell from a couple of weeks ago. […]