“You’ll be hearing from our lawyers.”
This was the threat made to me last year (2023) by a ‘third-party’ chancer who, rather than take accountability for his own bad advice to one of our favourite clients, chose to lash out instead. His advice ultimately led to a breach of trust and our resigning an account we had loved working on.
“Go for it”, I replied. He immediately hung up and I never heard from him again. It was hardly pistols at dawn but, later that day, I realised that it had taken me around 30 years to muster the confidence to say those three words. I stood my ground, knowing I was in the right. I wasn’t always like that, in fact, I used to hate confrontation.
My journey to assertiveness began at secondary school where I had a torrid time. Most days the bullying was verbal but it was often physical too. On those days, about 10 boys would join in on the command of John, Kevin, Raymond or Colin.
John was the worst because he often pretended to be my friend as well. We went to primary school together. I was often house captain of the rugby and football teams and during those periods, he’d be really friendly to me so that I’d pick him in his best position. Since he was the ringleader, everyone else would be friendly then too.
It confused me because I felt important in those moments. Sports-wise, I was top dog, but once the matches ended, everything always went back to square one. This cycle persisted for years and I contributed to the problem by being aloof.
One day I had a pencil in my pocket. I got piled on as per usual. The pencil lead went into my leg and broke off. It hurt like hell and I couldn’t remove the lead afterwards. Despite the pain, I didn’t cry until after school, I just sucked it up.
Another time, my friend Hermes was being bullied by a guy called Jimmy. One day I told Jimmy to leave Hermes alone and before I knew it, Jimmy and I were surrounded by 30 boys shouting “fight fight fight”. I hated confrontation so I let Jimmy put me down even though I knew I was stronger than him. For the next few weeks, Jimmy stopped bullying Hermes and directed his attentions towards me instead.
Mind you, this episode had a happy ending. I was a different person on the rugby pitch and a few weeks later, Jimmy and I were on opposing teams. I broke through the line and ran directly at Jimmy who was full back. He bottled it and high tackled me instead. I lost the plot, leapt to my feet and went for him. He ‘shat’ himself.
Mr Rutter, the PE Teacher, sent me off, ordering me to wait in his office until the lesson was over. Thirty minutes later, Mr Rutter walked into the room, shut the door, smiled, shook my hand and said “Nice one Woolfie”. I think he knew, and Jimmy never bullied me or Hermes again.
The bullying continued until the fifth year and it deeply affected my confidence. It’s why I didn’t get braces on my teeth (a decision I’ve always regretted) and what drove me to push myself to extremes in sports despite having terrible growth pains as a teenager, resulting in seven knee operations in later life. During my teenage years, I transitioned from a cheerful boy to a quiet and thoughtful introvert.
My saviour was a friend called Dele. She joined my form in the second year and, too, faced bullying initially. We shared a passion for cycling and used to cycle for hours at the weekends. I told her all my secrets. We struck up a life-long friendship.
The bullying eventually stopped via, I’m tempted to say, an act of God. I attempted to throw an empty bottle of coke into the bin and completely misthrew it. It hit one of my tormentors flush on the eye, causing it to split open. He went to hospital to get stitches and I was summoned to the headmaster’s office.
I was given two options: apologise or face suspension. I refused to apologise. So my Dad was summoned too, I still refused. Why should I apologise to him?
When the truth emerged, chaos ensued. My Dad was furious when he learned of my school’s inertia (I guess he was also very upset that I’d never mentioned it or that he’d never noticed). The bullying ended that day and the school backed down.
A few years ago, I met with an old classmate called Lizzie. I asked her, “Was the bullying as bad as I remember?”
She replied, “It was really bad, but we would never have known because you always seemed so happy”. That hit home as I was anything but. In hindsight, I’m not sure if I truly recognised that I was being bullied. It just felt like the norm.
Lizzie then went on to tell me that many of my former bullies still live in Stroud and regret how they treated me. You should reach out to them she said, so they can say sorry. I declined.
I forgave them a long time ago but I’m not ready to forget. My thinking is: let them live with the consequences, as I have done.
Truth be told, this experience has taken me decades to fully process and it has shaped my life in many ways. Despite some bitterness, I oddly look back at that time with a form of fondness too. I’m proud to have stood my ground.
This mindset has helped me on many occasions, particlarly in business where alpha males like the above douchebag roam. I also have a great life now with so much to be thankful for. I’ve no doubt that my experiences as a teenager shaped me positively.
The key to handling confrontation is to stand firm on your principles and focus on the facts. This clarity empowers you to handle any conflict with relative ease.
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This category is inspired by the Ben Folds Five song, “One Angry Dwarf and 200 solemn faces”, in which Ben sings a triumphant ‘up yours’ to his former school bullies. This song has a personal significance.