Changing the Scale on Intimidation
By Barry Maher

      Sometimes we need to change the scale we're using to measure those around us. Too often too many of us are intimidated by our boss or our boss's boss or our boss's boss's boss. Why?

      Why are we intimidated by any prominent person? We all understand that no matter how intelligent or rich or powerful or good looking or famous we ourselves are, we have a full assortment of insecurities and fears, of weaknesses and regrets. But we sometimes have trouble believing that the same is true of others—especially those who are more intelligent, powerful, rich, good looking, etc. than we are. 

      You and I have difficulty discerning the difference in intelligence between a collie and a Dalmatian. I always thought that if someone came to Earth from some other planet, they would have difficulty distinguishing what appear to us to be vast differences between us. And in that most prized and prideful characteristic of humanity—intelligence—someone from Alpha Centuri might have trouble telling the difference between an Einstein and a village idiot. On the Alpha Centurian's scale, the distinction could be tiny.

      Certainly on any absolute scale of all there is to know, none of us know much.     

      "I used to be intimidated by prominent people," an extremely successful high tech entrepreneur says. "Until I met one of our most respected television icons. Not only did he obviously put his pants on one leg at a time, he'd forgotten to pull up his fly. He was very gracious, but nothing else he could have done would have set me so completely at ease. We're all human—and clay feet are endemic to the breed."

      Tip: Neither Pierce Brosnan's nor Julia Roberts' good looks make them better than you—just better looking.

      Tip: Warren Buffett's billions don't make him better. Nor does Bill Gates' money, fame and power.

      Mother Theresa was probably better than you. And better than me. So is the guy who donated a kidney to help a complete stranger. But both you and I are far more likely to be intimidated by wealth, fame, or looks than we are by those who are actually better people than we are. 

      Why are we more intimidated by human beings who are successful—successful by standards we often insist we don't hold—than by those who are successful as human beings?

      If you want a value check, consider this. A man becomes rich.  Maybe he even stole the money. Or maybe he won the lottery. Maybe the lottery machine at the 7-11 selected the winning numbers, so he didn't even accomplish that on his own. Still, all of a sudden everyone starts treating this guy better. That may be understandable. We'd all like to get a piece of those winnings, even if it's just a tiny piece. So maybe we're sucking up to him. Not commendable perhaps, but understandable.

      What's less understandable is that we also start thinking of this guy as a more valuable, more worthwhile person. We respect him more. We ask his opinion and his advice, and we actually pay attention to it. We're flattered and honored to be in his company.     

      We have a higher regard for people with money. And that's true even if they simply made their money the old fashioned way: by inheriting it. It's even more true if they're old money, which might well mean that no one in their family has done much of anything constructive—anything of any social value—for generations. 

      Tip: Sometimes changing the scale involves a value check.

 

Deliberate Intimidation

      Then there are the Marvin Winchells of the world, those who try to intimidate deliberately.

      "Marvin has to let you know that he's really too important to be dealing with the likes of you," one of Marvin's vendors complained. "He's always late for meetings. He'll keep you cooling your heals while he chats on the phone about his golf game. He's got that huge office. Giant desk. His chair is a leather throne. The two cloth chairs for visitors are smaller and shorter. The topper is, he's actually whittled down their legs. And the front legs are shorter than the back. So you can't get comfortable, and if try to balance anything in your lap, it slides down to the floor."

      "An old trick," I offered. "I think psychiatrists used to use it."

      "Sure. I've heard of it, but I've never known anyone else who actually went to the trouble to do it. Then he has to act distracted and disinterested in anything you have to say. And shake his head while you're talking as if he's much too smart to believe a word of it. And of course, nothing you do is ever right—or ever likely to be."

      "And at the slightest excuse," I offered, "the screaming starts. And the demands." 

      He chuckled, "You know Marvin."

      "I was in sales. Every sales rep knows a Marvin."

      He nodded. "Saying Marvin is high maintenance is like saying cancer is annoying. With all aggravation and all the hand-holding required, I was spending more in antacid than we were making on the account. So one day I get a call."

      "From Marvin."

      "Don't be silly. Marvin's much too big a deal to call me directly. I get a call from Marvin's secretary. She says, Please hold for Mr. Winchell, please." This is typical Marvin. Then he'd leave you hanging there for 20 minutes. Only I'd had enough. So I say, The only thing I'll hold for Mr. Winchell is his trophy wife. And I can't do that right now cause I'm busy canceling his last order—his very last order."

      Why should anyone feel intimidated by someone like Marvin, someone with such massive insecurities that they feel they need to go to such lengths to gain an edge? This is a person you should be feeling sorry for. What could be more pathetic than the image of this guy down on his knees in his best, overpriced, dressed-for-success suit, shaving down those chair legs?

      Tip: Never be intimidated by someone who thinks his best shot is winning through intimidation.

      They're usually just telling you that they're in competition with the world and that—without the intimidation—they don't believe they can win. And they're usually right. They try to blow themselves up like a balloon—hoping for larger than life—and when it doesn't work, when the balloon pops . . . Well, you'll never see a greater change of scale—a greater loss of stature—in any human being.

      Any good negotiator would love to run across a Marvin Winchell. An unethical one could take him for everything—including the defective office furniture.

Adapted from Filling the Glass: The Skeptic's Guide to Positive Thinking in Business by Barry Maher, Las Vegas, Nevada. (Dearborn 2001).