I can’t call him a “Pompous Jackass” to his face, but I’d like to.
We had a meeting at work tonight. There were new people I hadn’t met before.
I give most people the benefit of the doubt. I like to think that for the most part, people are not evil, they have good intentions, and there are good reasons if they appear otherwise.
There has been the odd occasion when I’ve gone with my gut feeling on somebody, though. Like the time when I was working at a very small software company and a man came in to interview for a sales job. He slithered in and I literally reeled back in my chair before he got to my desk (he assumed I was reception. I wasn’t.) I remember saying to my supervisor “I hope <our boss> doesn’t hire him. He reeks of evil!!” Really, I don’t normally make those snap judgements. But my gut said he was trouble. I don’t know if I was right or wrong, because, perhaps, the boss felt it too, and didn’t hire him.
Tonight, again, I met a man that I instantly disliked. (It’s not always a man. Just these two examples are.) Mind you, he did not radiate evil like the slithering salesman. I talked with him and felt like he had just rubbed my fur the wrong way. I was civil. I did my best to act as friendly and as welcoming as I would with any other newcomer to our meetings. I wanted to call him a Pompous Jackass. I didn’t. I didn’t even mention it to anyone else there.
Just as well. He probably didn’t like me either. We’ll have to agree to disagree later, I’m sure.
At some point, hopefully, I’ll figure out why I had that reaction to him. I hope that my first impression is wrong.
I wonder how often our first impressions are correct?