This in response to an interesting story about someone who stood up to a line jumper:
Norms are not easy to enforce when then target of the enforcement is insouciant or otherwise resistant to the threat of being shamed or embarrassed. Lance’s experience (suddenly feeling like he’s the jerk, anger channeling into embarrassment, etc) is likely very common.
This strong, unpleasant emotional reaction could be thought of as part of the cost of enforcing a general norm when you personally don’t have much to gain from doing it, and thus a reason to pass it by. But there seems to be more to it than that, as the emotional upset also pushes the interaction forward.
Living in NYC, I find myself in an environment where social etiquette is far more crucial to everybody’s happiness than anywhere else I’ve ever lived. Everyone here is so continuously amongst each other, and every good and service so sought after by throngs of people, that there’s no putting social transgressions aside, knowing that you’ll go home and forget about it. Home is nothing but a small eye in the middle of a continual hurricane, and there is never a moment of silence and space in which to decompress from the constant pushing and shoving of everybody else.
It’s pretty unlivable, especially for somebody with my temperament, but it will teach you to be assertive. Six years ago, I’d never have dreamed of calling a stranger out for anything. Now, if someone jumps me in line, I can’t keep from saying, ‘Excuse me. I was here.’ Or, on grumpier days, ‘We-ell, go right on ahead, then!’
People always get embarrassed and pretend they didn’t see me there, but they saw me. They just thought I wouldn’t say anything if they bowled right over me. Which is another thing about NYC – not only is it not ok to let people jump you, it’s also not ok to let them get away with thinking you’re the sort who’ll suffer a jumping. It’s a point of pride.
The other day, I was in a very crowded subway train, and there were two young, cute girls in summery dresses right in front of me. This guy, who was in the center with nothing to hold onto, sort of grabbed or pushed up against one of the girls, and when she glared at him, he smiled in a smug way, and said, ‘Can’t help it.’ Referring to the crowded train and lack of hand-holds.
‘Oh, you can’t help it?’ cried the girl (and you can always just see it in someone’s face when they’ve had it – I really pay attention at these times, because it’s bound to be awesome). ‘You can’t help it? Well, I can’t help this: I’m gonna slap the shit outta you! Think you can just grab me – I will slap that smile right off your face. Look at him, some smarmy little asshole, oh, he’s smarmy, too, look at him, think he gonna grab me. I will kill you, fool!’
And on and on she went, giving a very loud and accurate description of all the various ways in which this fellow was not desirable to any woman anywhere, until her friend grabbed her by the shoulders and told her to stop.
I was so thrilled! It was the best thing I’d seen in weeks. I managed not to applaud, but couldn’t suppress my ear-to-ear grin, which this guy also saw, as he got more and more trounced in front of this train packed with strangers. By the time he got off, his head was so far down in his neck, all you could see was his bald spot sticking out of his collar. It was glorious.
If only every woman eviscerated gross guys like that, we’d have no more issues in the subways.
