I did something last Sunday that wasn’t very nice. And I’d do it again without hesitation.
Last year, this guy John, who lives across the street from me, put a TV on his front porch. He likes to sit out there and watch an endless series of sporting events.
Inevitably, a few neighbors drift over. Beers are consumed. Voices get louder. Guffaws are guffawed. When something significant happens in a game, deafening “OOOOOOHHHHHHHH”s are howled. Before you know it, John’s porch has transformed into a fucking Bennigan’s.
In a cruel acoustical twist, the noise carries in such a way that it seems to be happening at the foot of my bed. I’m trying to get some rest at 11:15 on a Tuesday night but Good Time Johnny is keeping the party going.
I’ve asked him more than once to please keep it down. He was receptive and apologetic, and has made absolutely no effort to do it.
So, on Sunday, I was getting into my car and saw that John was fast asleep on his porch. He looked serene. Until my blaring horn jolted him awake.
It’s our own fault
You may have noticed that more people are behaving poorly, or even downright terribly, these days. Blame the rise in douchebaggery on the internet, politics, global warming, high fructose corn syrup, or lackluster movie remakes—I don’t care. The real reason it’s becoming more of a problem is that we’re letting people get away with it.
We get frustrated. We try reasoning with them. We vent to our friends. But when push comes to shove, we generally aren’t pushing or shoving back.
Through hours of extensive research and complex data analysis during a fellowship with the National Consequences Foundation, I’ve discovered there are two reasons for this.
We don’t want to be sued.
We don’t want to make waves.
While these points seem sensible, it’s time to reevaluate our positions.
If you can’t beat ‘em...
It used to be that if you had a dispute with someone, you’d shoot them in a saloon or something. “Well, Zeke did have it coming,” one of the townsfolk would say, stepping over Zeke’s corpse to order another sarsaparilla. “He shouldn’t have insulted Clyde’s favorite horse.”
While effective—no one would dare utter an unkind word about Buttercup after that—it was a bit much.
So we evolved. And though our intentions were good, we’ve now gotten to the point where we’ve nearly eliminated street justice, and that’s a mistake. We’ve overcorrected.
Remember that scene in The Godfather when Sonny finds out that his sister Connie’s husband, Carlo, has been hitting her? Sonny encourages her to get a restraining order, then urges Carlo to get anger management counseling.
Just kidding. He beats the living shit out of Carlo in the street, where everybody can see.
Sonny’s reaction to spousal abuse was the correct one in the 1940s when the film was set, and it’s the correct one today. Only now he’d be arrested and Carlo would sue him. Worse still, Carlo would win.
In recent weeks, I’ve read about three instances where squatters took over someone’s home, and the person was unable to get them out in any reasonable amount of time due to some convoluted legal nonsense. In one case, a 75-year-old man discovered the squatters after he returned home from a hospital stay, and had a heart attack.
If that man were your loved one, how would you want the situation handled? A long, drawn-out process involving escalating legal fees and a series of court visits? Or a couple of roided-up goons in tank tops wielding lead pipes?
There’s a school of thought that says violence is never the answer. I understand that point of view, but it’s not realistic. The truth is, violence is rarely the answer. But it’s not never the answer. As Gandhi said, sometimes really bad people need a really good beatdown.1
Considering the inconsiderate
Obviously, I’m talking about extreme cases there. But what about the millions of other relatively minor infractions that we encounter all the time? For every selfish, rude, or insensitive act, there’s an appropriate route that we generally don’t take because we’re afraid it’ll turn into a whole thing. What we don’t take into account is:
It’s already a whole thing, and we’re suffering because of it.
By doing nothing, we’re helping to perpetuate the behavior.
That’s why, while at the Foundation, I put together a Street Justice Handbook full of consequences you can dole out when confronted by common offenses. The goal is to give the perpetrator just enough of a repercussion to make them reassess their ways.
Here are a few examples.
Situation: The clod in the airplane seat behind you thinks your armrest is the perfect perch for his repulsive, bare foot.
Action: When the flight attendant wheels the drink cart around, request a cup of coffee. At the slightest hint of turbulence, coffee that foot like you’re watering a tomato plant.
Repercussions: First-degree burn. Wet, sticky foot. Squashed sense of entitlement.
Situation: A child is running amok in the supermarket, screaming and pulling things off the shelves, while his mother ignores him and talks on her phone.
Action: Approach the mother and sweep everything you can off the shelves into her cart and at her feet, while mimicking the shrieks of her intolerable hell-spawn. Then calmly walk away.
Repercussions: Shock. Shattered worldview. Mess to clean up. Realization that both she and her kid are gaping assholes.
Situation: A blowhard corners you at a party and subjects you to his 20-minute Ted Talk on the political climate that you neither asked for nor care to hear.
Action: Say, “Excuse me, professor, but I’m dropping this class,” and make your way over to the snacks.
Repercussions: Befuddlement. Embarrassment. Inescapable awareness that he’s a self-involved, crashing bore.
Situation: Your coworker keeps stealing people’s food out of the break room refrigerator.
Action: When she’s away from her desk, take her chair, her computer, and anything else she needs to do her job. Leave a note that says, “Stop taking our food or your children are next.”
Repercussions: Confusion. Terror. Not only leaves your food alone, but leaves the state and starts a new life under an assumed name.
It’s up to us
Unfortunately, despite extensive thinking on the subject, I didn’t foresee my situation with John. Let’s face it, my horn honk was amusing but hardly street justice-worthy, as it wasn’t a direct, timely response.
One night soon enough, there will be a baseball game that will lure him to the porch, a remote in one hand and a beer, making its way up to his stupid mouth, in the other.
So, what to do about it? The degree of difficulty is raised because there will most likely be other neighbors there. As Mandela said, revenge is a sport best played in front of no spectators.2
While I mull over my options—maybe something involving an airhorn, or a drone with a siren—I hope you’ll do your part to make this a more just world.
A world where the rude and discourteous are humbled and shamed.
Where the self-important are taught just how unimportant they really are.
Where egomaniacs emerge with egg on their faces. Literally, if necessary.
And where insensitive asses sense that a change is afoot, so they’d better change before they sense a foot in their ass.
Todd Gandhi, Rikers Island Prison Guard.
Anthony Mandela, aka Tony the Man, New Jersey sanitation magnate.
“Excuse me, professor, but I’m dropping this class” 😂🤣. I definitely want to use this sometime.
In waiting rooms and nail salons (Huge problem in nail salons! As if you’re not there for a bit of relaxation. And you could NEVER ask them for consideration where I live), I came up with the following. If someone is playing a video or talking loudly on their phone with it on speaker, I choose a podcast, turn my volume up as high as it goes, and push play. This inevitably garners an incredulous look. I don’t look back. I pretend I’m unaware. But so far they always turn off their volume or switch off the speaker phone and put the phone to their ear. The minute they do this, I stop the podcast. So far this has worked anytime I’ve used it.