A Really Effective Four-Letter Word For When Someone Is Being A Total Jerk

It’s probably not the one you reach for most often

Jerks.

They’re everywhere.

Cutting you off in traffic. Snipping at you from reception when you have to cancel a doctor’s appointment. Pooping all over the comments section.

There’s a whole liturgy of four-letter words at your disposal to let fly on these people.

The problem is, it feels good in the moment, but only in the moment. Cursing is like a little anger fart. It’s temporary gas relief, but the source of the gas keeps bubbling up.

I’d like to make a modest proposal of a more effective four-letter word to mutter under your breath when you encounter a jerk:

PAIN

Specifically, that jerk is in pain. They’re expressing the pain in an unhealthy way, yes, but their destructiveness is coming from a place of deep pain. The more intense the pain, the worse the behavior.

They’re angry that their world is broken in some way, and it’s not fair. Their spouse wasn’t supposed to get cancer. Their teen wasn’t supposed to wrap his car around a tree. They weren’t supposed to still be broke after so many years of hard work.

When you remember that the fatheads around you are in a significant amount of pain, you release them from their roles as cardboard cutouts in your life. They’re not just bit players. They’re real people. It brings out the now-my-mind-is-blown feeling of sonder:

n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own — populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness

Source: Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows

I’ll be the first to admit, I’m successful at this in only like 3% of my interactions with jerks. And when I do remember, it doesn’t diminish how much I want to throttle them.

But I still feel like it’s a worthwhile habit to develop and get better at.

It helps me realize it’s not personal. They’re not truly angry at me, they’re angry at their world, and I just happened to step into their line of fire.

It helps me to release my grip on the assumption that life should be fair. It helps me accept that people around me do mean things sometimes, so I need to manage my expectations if I want to control my own anger response to life’s little fail moments.

It helps me choose the appropriate response, from ignoring them to full-on shutting them down, rather than flying off the handle by default.

And I’m hoping that maybe — just maybe — getting better at remembering will help me recognize and stop doing the same thing to others that I hate having done to me.