The other day, I found myself going down a strange rabbit hole on the internet; watching Odawg skits on Youtube. For the uninformed, Odawg is a ‘hood influencer’ with nearly half a billion views on YouTube, breaking down ‘hood life’ for the average American viewer.
On one of his skits, there was a scene where a couple was having an argument. The girlfriend said to her boyfriend: “When I complain, can’t you just listen instead of taking it as a personal attack? It’s not about you!”
There was a ridiculous amount of truth in that line, and it gave me something to ponder for several days.
I’ve yet to meet a single human being that doesn’t appreciate it when others listen to them speak. However, I’ve seen a lot of instances where the line of communication breaks when complaints enter the equation – and I’m the first one to raise my hand in guilt for doing so.
I’ve been guilts of three critical flaws when it comes to dealing with complaints, detailed below.
1. I try to change the mind of the complainer.
2. I downplay the situation, circumstances or event being complained about.
3. I tune out the compaint entirely, leaving the ‘Complainer’ a stone wall of silence.
Complaining is a part of our human experience, and I don’t know a single person that is void of expressing their discontent in life, no matter how wonderful life may be.
It hit me like a load of bricks that I’ve often resorted to tactics 1, 2 and 3 when dealing with a complaining individual – one, in particular.
If somebody came to me and told me they were hungry and I had a big bowl of food in my hand, I’d be flat-out cruel to not offer them the food and instead preach to them about the health benefits that fasting offers.
“DId you know that you’re near autophagy? That’s wonderful!”
Complaints are a lot like the above situation. Replace “I’m hungry” with “I’m discontent about X” and the big bowl of food in your hands with the two ears stuck on the side of your head. Offer them both generously and maybe consider joining in the feast with them. You’ll both be better off for it.
Recently, I had dinner with somebody who was expressing discontent about living in the suburbs of Texas. Rather than try and preach the virtues of suburbia and the wonders of having a 2-car garage and ample living space for less than the cost of a West-Coast apartment, I shared with them that suburban life is also difficult for me at times; citing my long-lived lifestyle of big city living, international travel and familarity with being a stones-throw away from cofeeshops, bars and fine dining.
Looking back at it, my response was a sincere one. I truly do wrestle with the monotony of suburban life. However, I tend to default to viewing the glass as being half-full, rather than half-empty, because I’m keenly aware that this is my lot in life for the time being – until it’s not.
An old pastor of mine used to say “We should be thankful every day of the year – and have one day to complain.”
He was right. Sometimes life demands a good complaint, and it’s best when it’s paired with a solid glass of wine and a meal that you don’t have to clean up afterwards.
The next time I hear a complaint, I’m going to be more open to seeing what gasoline I have to throw on the flame, rather than attempting to douse it out. Why? Because when the fire gets bigger, both people get warmer.
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