Alright, folks, let’s kick this off with a confession: I know my opinions can ruffle a few feathers. I’m well aware some people pick up this newspaper despite my ramblings, not because of them. Yet, it never fails – those who never read my column are often the quickest to launch into a tirade against me or the paper, especially on social media. And they always have to add, “Of course, I never pick the paper up,” as if that adds a cherry of credibility on top of their sundae of criticism.
This peculiarity really hit home the other day. I was at a newsagent’s when a woman asked for a copy of The Looker. Sadly, they were out. I helpfully suggested she try the sweet shop on the high street. Her response? “I’d rather not, because of that vile man who runs the shop.” Intrigued, I played it cool, “Who, David Wimble?” “Yes, that ghastly man,” she confirmed, not knowing she was talking to stated ‘ghastly man’.
The shopkeeper, clearly entertained, said, “But he does a lot for the local area.” “Like what?” she snapped back. “Well,” the shopkeeper began, “he takes first aid and food to Poland for the Ukrainian war support.” She scoffed, “That’s just for the praise.” I chimed in, “He doesn’t usually mention it. He just does it.” I mentioned his years of volunteering for the RNLI and his work on the Thames. And the support given to promoting Cubs Scouts and Guides and support of Hythe High Street through the Business and Tourism Association.
“Oh, I didn’t know that,” she muttered. The shopkeeper added, “And he provides free advertising and public address systems for local groups and organisations.” Now she looked genuinely surprised. “I didn’t know that. I wonder if he’ll publish something about my operatic group’s next concert,” she mused. I informed her it was already in the edition she was after. “Really?” she exclaimed. I offered to introduce her to him, saying he’s quite nice really! She agreed to come in later.
The look on her face when she walked through the door and saw me was priceless. “Oh, hello dear. Is he in?” she asked. “Who?” I replied. “Your friend, the editor.” Her expression when I revealed, “I am the dreadful editor,” was a picture. She stammered, “I decided I didn’t like you because a friend of mine said you were not very nice.” What followed was a half-hour chat where she admitted she liked The Looker but not me because I supported the previous council. I pointed out I support any council that seeks support, regardless of their political stance and that members of all political groups where offered places on the cabinet.
Now, here’s where it gets really juicy. This brings me to my main point. I always fight strongly for what I believe is right. But just because you have a different opinion doesn’t mean I have to turn my back on you or put you down. It’s not just about politics; it’s a tribal issue. For instance, I once had a Scottish lady friend who was Catholic. She found a crew member on our ship attractive and asked me to set up a drink in the crew bar so she could get to know him better.
The next day, she happily reported the date went well but hoped he wasn’t a Protestant. I asked why that would be a problem. She explained she couldn’t be in a relationship with a Protestant. The following day, she discovered he was Protestant and immediately decided she couldn’t see him anymore. When I pressed her on why, she admitted they liked the same music, food, and had similar senses of humour. “You might have missed out on the best-matched person in your life,” I said. “No, never go out with a Protestant,” she declared firmly.
I asked her if she was very religious, and she confessed she had never been to church except for weddings. “So, do you pray at home?” I asked. “No, I don’t believe in it,” she stated. Dumbfounded, I realised the depth of her prejudice, despite it having no real basis in her life.
Speaking of tribal issues, I know a pair of football fans who are the best of mates outside of match days. One supports Manchester United and the other Liverpool. On any given day, they’re sharing beers, celebrating birthdays, and even going on holidays together. But come match day, it’s like watching the Mike Tyson and Frank Bruno. The banter turns fierce, and for those 90 minutes, it’s pure, unadulterated passion – bordering on hatred. Yet, once the final whistle blows, they’re back to being inseparable friends. It’s a fascinating example of how deeply ingrained loyalties can coexist with genuine friendship, proving that we can hold fierce opinions and still respect and love one another.
And then there was the time I was working on a cruise ship. I met this man in a bar who, after a few pints, revealed he was a die-hard fan of a football team that I, admittedly, had never been fond of (spurs). Initially, I thought, “Here we go, another loudmouth hooligan.” But as the night wore on, we ended up discussing everything from politics to philosophy to our favourite pie recipes. By the end of the night, I realised I had just made a new friend. Turns out, he was a history teacher with a passion for Renaissance art and a killer sense of humour. Who knew a die-hard Tottenham fan could also be an art aficionado?
What I’m trying to say is: judge people by their actions and your first-hand dealings with them. Don’t rely on hearsay. You might miss out on something enlightening and enriching because of preconceived notions. Life is far too short and the world too rich with diversity to let such pettiness dictate our interactions. So, let’s all take a step back, open our minds, and give people a fair chance. Who knows what wonderful surprises life might have in store for us if we do?
Moral of the Story: We’re all guilty of jumping to conclusions based on incomplete information or biased opinions. However, taking the time to understand people for who they really are can lead to unexpected friendships, deeper connections, and a richer, more nuanced view of the world. Let’s make it a point to look beyond the surface, engage in meaningful conversations, and give everyone the benefit of the doubt. You might just find a gem where you least expect it.