Like many little girls, I wanted everyone to like me.  Not in the way of being queen of the pretty-and- popular-posse; if anything, I was anti-clique and substantially nerdy.  It was more like I just wanted everyone to get along, especially with me.  The “popular” kids and the “burn outs” kind of scared me, but all the “regular” kids in between, they were my people.  I avoided arguments, fights and gossip (so being on the debate team was not on my list of clubs to join.)   Put another way, I became Switzerland at an early age.

In college I did just enough partying to have some fun without getting into big trouble, and I made friends with a wide variety of people – punk rockers to music nerds to frat boys.  One weekend I went home with a roommate to meet her family, and she later told me her mother referred to me as a Pollyanna.  I was crushed and slightly humiliated – which in hindsight totally supported her claim.  Make a note to my late-teen self:  back it off a bit.

As I grew into adulthood I realized the importance of not trying to be everyone’s friend. Because really, who has time for that many friends?  But God Forbid I collect any enemies. That was inexcusable. As I moved into my various stages of careers, I embraced my skills of neutrality (did I mention I actually do have Swiss lineage?) and it did not take long for coworkers and associates to know I was a safe-zone and kept confidences in the vault. Still, that underlying secret drive of achieving my coveted “they like me, they really really like me” status never really went away.

Here’s a classic example. Many years ago, I started a new job and my department did not yet have a desk area for me to use.  I floated around and would use anyone’s desk who was out for the day.  One of my coworkers who I had yet to meet was on vacation, so while she was out, I was told to use her area.  With a caveat. I was instructed by other coworkers that if I was going to use her desk, I “better not touch or move any of her stuff.  She will know and won’t be happy!”  Instantly I was intimidated by someone I hadn’t even met.  Upon her return, I finally got my own desk and it became my mission to – you guessed it – get her to like me.  I remember clearly the moment it happened.  She and I had to share a ride to go visit a customer.  During that drive, we shifted from slightly uncomfortable idle chat to finding common ground and the connection happened quickly.  Nearly 20 years later, she’s still a dear friend (you know who you are).

None of this is really that unusual.  I think a lot of us R.W.’s are predisposed to putting in extra effort to try to make other people happy.  Yet with age comes some modicum of intelligence and experience, and we gain the ability to shift our core beliefs to better match the reality of our lives.  I grew a stronger spine (metaphorically) and figured out how to speak up and stand up for myself, even dipping my toes into that wild world of possibly angering someone by having differing opinions.  Imagine my surprise to realize it could be kind of fun.  Thankfully we’ve finally gotten to a modern age where strong women are valued for their insight and intelligence, not just because they “are nice.”   Mind you, I will never be viewed as a Bad Ass. But no one has called me a Pollyanna in 40 years either.

The key is to find the balance of being kind and friendly without losing sense of self – and understanding that every one of us has crappy days.  As I’ve said before, we never know what invisible loads others may be carrying on their shoulders.   Especially in today’s world, we all get weighed down over and over by worries, fear and ugliness and it can result in us losing energy, being short of patience, even walking around with resting bitch face. I was talking to a couple girlfriends this weekend about how something so simple and seemingly inconsequential as not having a bagger in our grocery store cashier line, or being approached by someone trying to sell us something, or getting stuck in slow traffic, or being interrupted when we are trying to read the last 10 pages of a book is enough to make us snappy and short-tempered.  Sadly it is not taking much lately to push us into Eeyore-ville.  

Which is how, over all these years, my goals have shifted just slightly.  I now take on the challenge of evoking smiles, and creating just a glimmer of connection, when it feels like someone needs it.  No, they don’t have to be my friend.  They don’t even have to like me (honest!).   But for my efforts to be successful, they need to feel just a bit lighter. It has become like a personal game to me, something that kicks in and gives me an endorphin rush if I get a positive reaction in even the tiniest of ways.

This morning I had a doctor’s appointment, and the nurse who took me in was clearly not happy. She was just not having a good day.  No pleasantries, no smile, all business. She ran through her questions for me like a robot. Her mind was elsewhere – just like any of us, perhaps she was struggling to work while preoccupied with an ill loved one, child care issues, relationship problems, financial woes, world at war fears – who knows. I didn’t need to know.  Because we’ve all been there.  Young me would have been a bit scared by her.  Older me welcomed the challenge.  As she closed her iPad, stood up and distractedly told me the doctor would be in soon, I told her I loved how her bright blue crocs totally matched the scrubs she was wearing.  It’s true, I did.  Whether by accident or on purpose, at some point this morning, she chose that bright fun color in her shoe wear and scrubs.  She paused just for a second, smiled, chuckled and said thanks.  Boom, there it is!  Success. For 2.5 seconds life got lighter.

Finding that niche of connection somewhere between Switzerland and Disney World doesn’t always work, and sometimes isn’t appropriate. When we women have our sad or overwhelmed or stressed moments, we need understanding more than cheerfulness. Although some well-directed humor or sarcastic snarkiness or a heart-felt compliment can shine just a little bit of light in the gloom.

A couple weeks ago I had the amazing good fortune to attend a bucket-list concert. Before the show, a woman was walking around handing out themed friendship bracelets to other attendees. Just because we were all there together, sharing an experience and she too wanted to elicit some smiles and make brief connections.  Of course I took one and thanked her.  I’ll never see her again.  But I know she’s my kinda gal.