When Push comes to Shove

Due to the fact that I now work in Central London, I have been forced to become one of many commuters using London’s tube system and endure the dreaded rush hour. The myth of being one of hundreds of sardines trapped in an elongated tin can has now become a reality for me and it’s safe to say I’ve experienced far more comfortable journeys in my short time on this earth. I have discovered there is a great irony with all passengers who use the tube. Unless you are travelling in a group, we completely isolate ourselves from one another. We do not make eye contact, share a smile and conversation is mainly restricted to, ‘have you finished with the Metro.’ In spite of this however, no matter how much we refrain from any form of social interaction, everybody at some level is thinking one collective thought.

‘I hope I get a seat.’

There’s no need to be ashamed of this. I’m certainly not. I see nothing wrong with not wanting my journey to work at 7am to consist of being elbowed in the ribs by someone trying to turn the page of the latest bestseller or tripping over somebody’s luggage fresh off the plane at Heathrow. My dilemma comes not from wanting a seat, but from what potentially could happen if you’re fortunate enough to obtain one. Aside from the sense of victory you feel, you have now unknowingly placed yourself in the position of being a human moral compass. How so I hear you cry? An example would probably be most fitting.

Its 7.15am. I’ve been on the tube for ten minutes and the train is just pulling up to South Ealing. The very little patience I have in my grouchy and tired state is being tested to the limit by a man who, despite being sandwiched between me and the door, still feels this is the perfect time to read a broadsheet newspaper even with his head at an unnatural forty five degree angle. I was about five seconds away from offering my own, somewhat unsubtle opinion on when is the best time to catch up on world events when suddenly I spotted a gentleman in a seat folding up his newspaper. He places it behind his head by the window and grabs, but does not pick up his bag. This is a clear indication that the man is preparing to vacate the chair and I begin my approach. Slowly, so as not to arouse suspicion, I stalk my way across towards where he’s seated, using the tried and tested, ‘I need to see the tube map to work out how many stops I have left’ method as justification for my movement. We arrive at South Ealing and as I anticipated, the man arises from this chair and proceeds towards the doors. Quick as a flash, I swan dive towards the now vacated seat and in one swift movement grab the paper he left behind, open it to the sports section and plant my derriere in the chair, making sure not to knock the recently purchased Kindle out of the hands of the person next to me.

Triumphant, I sat on my new found throne adorned with an out of date seat pattern and worn in piece of chewing gum, safe in the knowledge that my journey would be one of relative comfort from here on in…or so I thought. No sooner had I selected an album to serenade me into central London, was a man tapping me on the head (and I literally mean my head, like he was telling off a dog) claiming angrily that I had stolen his seat. Unfortunately we weren’t underground yet so I couldn’t pretend that I was finding it hard to hear him and naturally everyone was listening. I must confess that my natural instinct in situations such as this would be to confront the gentleman, question his entitlement to the aforementioned seat and declare unashamedly that I would not be moving. I do not shy away from verbal confrontation as I can talk anyone into the ground; I might not even be right but I’ll still win through sheer perseverance. The stage was set for a showdown.

Suddenly, I remembered a key phrase from a book I was reading. The book had been given to me as I had recently started working for Dale Carnegie and it was titled, ‘How to Win Friends and Influence People.’ The phrase was simply, ‘The only way to get the best of an argument is to avoid it.’ I sometimes have a problem processing books but I always find that certain sentences and ideas stick out and due to my argumentative nature, this sentence stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb. Realising that this was an ideal opportunity to try out such a technique I simply smiled at the man, stood up and ushered him into the seat offering my apologies. To my astonishment, he smiled back and offered his thanks. He then too apologised and went on to tell me that he had had the worst possible start to his day and even something as small as getting a seat on the tube had made him feel that much better. With a simple change of mentality I had gone from being a further nuisance to a man having a bad day, to being part of the solution to his downbeat morning.

You might be reading this and like me, find yourself in confrontation far too often and sometimes might even seek confrontation for the sake of it. I would encourage you to take onboard, as I did, the words that Dale Carnegie phrased so expertly. ‘The only way to get the best of an argument is to avoid it.’ I’d like to think that ‘the best’ not only applies to what you get out of it, but like my example shows, could also be the best thing for the other person too.

Brett Mills