I’ll Tell My Brother
When I was younger, so much younger than today–I would occasionally find myself in situations which I really struggled to handle.
Let me give you an example. There was this particular chap, whom we will call Ian Sharples for the purpose of the story; he was 2 years older than me, considerably bigger, and to be honest, a bit rough- looking. Even his mother struggled to love him.
He lived a couple of streets away from me on an unfashionable council estate in Rochdale. For some reason he had taken a real dislike to me. I never really got to the bottom of it, but he took great delight in being unpleasant and physically intimidating.
It’s not as if I stole his girlfriend or anything (I was only 11!); I wasn’t particularly good looking (probably still true, to be fair); I wasn’t even a snappy dresser. But every day on my way to school, I had to walk the gauntlet of his front gate in fear and dread, worrying about the insults and harm that might come my way.
On one occasion he threatened to meet me on the way home and give me a “sound thrashing” (although not maybe in that language; this was Rochdale in the 70s not Tom Brown’s Schooldays ). Unsure of what to do to prevent this I threatened to escalate the conflict and include my brother. He was 3 years older than me, much bigger than me (and Sharples, for that matter) and I felt that his involvement might get me off the hook.
Of course there are situations in conflict when such an escalation may be both necessary and valuable. We may want to divorce the day-to-day relationship from the problem at hand. If we can protect the relationship, for example, by leaving the numbers and details to the respective finance departments to sort out, then all well and good. If we can get our managing director or CEO to meet up with theirs, again maybe that is a good thing.