I mentioned mediation in an earlier entry today. There's lots of good stories (which I can't tell) but one in particular applies to a point I want to make.
Mediators are not allowed to discuss, ever, anything that goes on in a session, so I'm breaking a few rules here, but it was long ago and in a galaxy far far away, and a common enough happening that I doubt that anyone could be identified, so I'm gonna tell you about one anyway. One of my favorites. (If any of you are the mediation police, I'll just claim I made it all up!)
These two guys used to be best friends. Let's call them Bill and Joe. They were neighbors across the fields out in the country, and used to drink together at the local bar. Best buddies. But something happened. Something went wrong. During their third or fourth fistfight at the bar, one that turned into a general melee, Pete, the bar owner, finally gave up on them and called the police. Pete, friends with both, didn't really want to press charges, but insisted that something had to be done. The judge, in his infinite wisdom, sent Bill and Joe for mediation.
They arrived individually at the conference room in the town hall, each with a police escort. The cops warned of possible violence, but agreed to wait outside. It was pretty scary at first. Snarls quickly turned to shouts, and at one point they were standing nose to nose with me between them, all 4'10" of me straining to push them apart - "Now, now gentlemen, you don't want me to get upset. You won't like that at all.... Please, just for me, sit...."
When I asked them what happened - "He insulted my wife!"/"He keyed my truck!"/"Well, that was 'cause he kicked my dog!"/"He deserved it 'cause he...."etc.
We finally got back to the very beginning. Back to when they were still friendly. Got them to talk a little about back when it was fun. And then, what was the very first incident when you felt the other did you wrong? It took a few peelings of layers, and finally we got to -
Bill: "Well, he purposely dumped my beer when he walked past, and didn't say he was sorry. He asked me if I was going to call the police now."
Joe: "That was because he called the fire department on me, and got me fined."
Bill: "Huh? I called the fire department because those kids set your brush pile on fire. Why would I want you to get fined?"
Joe: "Because I tore up your field. What kids?"
Bill: "What field? When?"
Joe: "You're not mad at me for tearing up your field? Then why did you report my brush fire?"
Well, after pulling some teeth, this is how the story went.
Bill had always allowed Joe to drive across his cornfield, as long as there was no crop growing, to get to the woodlot in the back. One morning, Joe started across the field and hit a soggy spot. His truck got well mired. He had to get the tractor and a chain to pull it out, and it tore big nasty gouges in the field. Joe called Bill to tell him and apologize, but Bill wasn't home.
Later that morning, Joe decided to burn a brushpile in a field near his barn. He didn't have a burn permit, but it's just regular farm work, so he didn't think he needed one (I don't need no freakin' burn permit, mutter mutter). He got the fire well started, then went behind the barn to get more hose.
While Joe was behind the barn, two things happened. Some kids came by on bicycles, and stopped to check out the fire. And Bill came down the road on his way home. He saw a bunch of kids throwing stuff on a big brush fire in Joe's field, and poking it with sticks. He didn’t see Joe anywhere around. So he sped into his driveway, ran into the house, and called Joe’s house. He knew the phone rang in both the house and the barn, so if Joe was anywhere near the fire, he’d answer. Joe was on the other side of the barn, and by the time he got to the phone, it had stopped ringing. (In the meantime, when the phone had begun ringing, the kids had skedaddled, so they weren't there when Joe came around the barn.)
Bill was worried. Neither Joe nor his wife seemed to be home. It looked to Bill like the kids had started the fire, and it was too close to Joe's barn for an untended fire. So he called the fire department.
Joe got cited for burning brush without a burn permit. In this area, that's a pretty hefty fine. Joe figured Bill had reported him for spite, for the chewed up field.
Bill got a beer in his lap that evening, and he figured Joe was darned ungrateful, after he'd tried to protect Joe's barn and all that.
Both were mistaken, and it had gone downhill from there.
By the end of the session, they were grinning and thumping each other's backs, and making deals to repair all the damage they'd done each other. When we called the cops back in, Bill and Joe asked to be dropped off at the bar so they could apologize to Pete, and thank him for sending them to mediation.
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The moral of the story - don't assume! Don't decide you know what another person's motives are. If somebody says or does something nice, you can accept it at face value. But if they say or do something that bugs you, for Pete's Sake ASK!!! To do otherwise, to assume you know what is in another's mind, is to do a disservice to both of you. (Not to mention the sheer arrogance.)
And you're not allowed to get mad until after you've asked - politely.
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