Surviving Life Among Lunkheads

I wish I had a dollar for every jerk I’ve met.

I could retire rich cashing in on my alphabetized directory of airheads, back-stabbers, creeps, dirtbags, elitists, frauds, gossip-mongers, harpies, ignorami, jackasses, knotheads, liars, morons, nincompoops, ogres, prigs, qweets, ratfaces, skanks, twerps, users, vipers, weenies, (e)x-beaux, yutzes and zeros.

What can I say?

I’m a people person.

Unfortunately, the world is full of annoying and difficult people. For all I know, you are one of them.

It was in this state of mind that I passed three hours in a Pierce College classroom on a recent Saturday afternoon, soaking up the wisdom of Arlen Ring, a Woodland Hills psychologist and the teacher of an extension course called “Dealing With Difficult People.”

“We are all potentially difficult people,” Ring said. “Most difficult people are just like you and me.”

Ring has been in the shrink biz for 19 years, according to the catalogue, “specializing in communication skills, stress and self-esteem.” Since I suffer from all three, I thought I was a natural for his class.

“Learn how to keep your balance despite whatever people throw at you,” the blurb beckoned. “Manipulation, abusiveness, pressure, criticism, rage and other difficult tactics do not have to get to you. . . . This class will provide participants with tools to master the games people play, defuse out-of-control situations and understand confusing behavior.”

In short, the mysteries of life explained.

About a dozen other people showed up that day, and as we arranged our desks into one of those intimate adult-school horseshoes, I noticed that only two were men.

Coincidence?

I don’t think so.

Men have a simpler way of dealing with vexing people. They yell at them. They punch them. They shoot them. Women, on the other hand, take comfort in saying mean things behind their tormentors’ backs. We eke out vicarious revenge by watching the scheming shrews on “Melrose Place.”

And we attend pop-psychology classes.

Ring asked us whom we found difficult. People who yell. People who refuse to discuss problems. People who lie. People who refuse to compromise. Disapproving mothers-in-law who can slice you to ribbons with a word, a tone and an arched eyebrow. Bosses. Co-workers. The Ex.

And then there’s what Ring called “The Draining Friend.” This is a person who is such a self-absorbed downer, he or she won’t let you get a word in edgewise during nightly telephonic whine-a-thons. Never once does it occur to DF, as we’ll call him/her, that you might have better things to do.

Romantic breakups are the most common causes of draining friends.

Ring suggested an experiment to identify the species. While DF downloads the latest tale of woe, put down the receiver. Go to the bathroom. Fix a snack. Rotate your car’s tires. If he/she is still talking when you return and hasn’t even missed you--bingo!--that’s a draining friend.

“When you get off the phone, do you have less energy than before they called?” Ring asked. This is bad for you, he said. And, while you can’t choose your family, you can pick your friends.

“The problem with the draining friend is the relationship is out of balance,” he said. “It sounds like they are asking for advice, but they never take it. You are better off without them in your life.”

Now comes the hard part: dumping DF. I mean, giving people their walking papers isn’t easy. But, Ring instructed, there is a way to frame the unpleasantness so it doesn’t result in total meltdown. With a little finesse on your part, DF will think he/she dumped you.

Seize the initiative, he said. Tell DF why the relationship isn’t rewarding for you. Don’t feel guilty. The best that can happen is a real friend apologizes. The worst is that DF moves on to the next branch of the phone tree.

Hokay, fine. It was time to get in touch with our feelings. Nobody liked this part of the session. Ring told us to conjure up an unpleasant experience with a difficult person and focus on how we felt physically.

My problem was, I couldn’t decide on which incident to conjure. My mind flipped back and forth between the back-stabbing acquaintance and the conniving sibling. My stomach clenched. So did my fists. I felt like spitting and stomping. Pretty standard reactions, according to Ring.

Others said they felt nauseated, tired or tingly. Also standard.

“Feelings are the way in which we register what’s happening to us,” Ring said. “Ignoring your feelings will get you in trouble. In everything you do, we must take into account both the external consequences and what happens to us inside.”

Anger feels like indigestion. I was pretty teed off by this point, thank you very much, Dr. Ring. I wanted to scream. I wanted chocolate.

And I wanted you outta my face, doc.

Ring told us to take a deep breath, then another and another.

“You’ll be a stronger, more centered person if you make friends with your breathing,” he said. He instructed us to look at something green. Pretty. Plop, plop, fizz, fizz, oh what a relief it is. Someone even smiled.

The good doctor also recommended an anger-releasing exercise, which involved stretching and tossing invisible objects and making ninja noises, but all I felt at that point was silly.

The moral of the story was that for every annoying action, there is an opposite and appropriate reaction. Go ahead, flip off that lunatic driver who nearly got you killed on the freeway. It will make you feel better.

Just remember to do it under the dashboard in case he’s armed and dangerous.

Finally, after two hours and 45 minutes of psychological exercises and contortions, I was lacking just one piece of vital info from this one-man condensation of the self-help section. I’ve always wanted to know, just what is a “co-dependent”? It’s one of those words you hear a lot but you don’t know what it means.

Of course, Ring had the answer. It’s an approval addict. To be co-dependent is to become a junkie for people who aren’t good for you and a sucker for destructive relationships. A DF in the making.

Not me.

I’m good enough. I’m smart enough. And doggone it, people like me.

I just wish they weren’t so annoying.