I had an interesting conversation with myself the other day.
I was driving home from the airport, mid-afternoon, following my usual route.
When I exited the expressway, I noticed the two dudes in the car behind me as we stopped at a light.
I immediately disliked them.
Of course, I had no idea who they were.
But they had all the characteristics of people I instinctively looked down upon.
Their manner. Their dress. Their grooming and personal appearance. The way they interacted with and gestured to one another. The type of car they drove.
All these combined to paint a picture of two complete strangers whom I was certain I did not like.
I was generalizing, dealing in stereotypes in the worst way.
And when I caught myself doing so, I gave myself a rather stern lecture.
There you go again, I said.
These could be kind, generous people, with great families, on whom friends and neighbors rely in a pinch, who work hard and make honest livings.
They could be all those things, and more, I reminded myself.
Yet I, in my snobbery, was unwilling to grant them that possibility, because I instead chose to paint them with the broad brush of my own experience and judge them on appearance alone.
What if they, in turn, were doing the same to me?
As they drove behind me, there were certain things they might deduce from my car and the manner in which I drove it.
Maybe they could see my Ray-Ban-clad eyes in my rearview mirror and decide I was the embodiment of a certain stereotype that invoked strongly negative feelings in them.
It cuts both ways, I reminded myself.
And why is that?
Is that really necessary?
Why can’t we judge people on their merits, not their appearance?
It’s an age-old question that many have asked before.
And the answer has to do with evolutionary biology.
I’m no expert, but I’ve read a thing or two about it.
The gist of it is, stereotypes arose out of a need among us animals to make snap decisions about other animals to survive.
Primitives needed to determine, quickly, whether that thing with the big fangs was going to eat them or they were going to eat it.
And based upon our collective experience, handed down through the millennia, of either eating or being eaten, we developed instincts that enable us to make near-immediate judgements of people based upon a very small set of cues.
There are certain parts of the brain that govern all this, and it largely happens without any prompting or effort.
We see, we judge.
It’s that simple.
And those judgements are often accurate.
But, sometimes, they are not.
And that can have unfortunate consequences.
Like world wars.
Anyway.
I’m driving along, scolding myself, contemplating this innate feature of the human condition, convincing myself that I’d likely find the two dudes behind me agreeable, if only I got to know them.
And they, in turn, having thus been disarmed by my charm and wit, gained through an enlightened ability to overcome implicit biases, would find me to be a likeable guy.
And, I don’t know, maybe we’d all have a good laugh over it and then go get a beer.
Hey, it could happen.
We eventually came upon a school zone, where one of those signs with the flashing yellow light told me to slow down to twenty-five miles per hour.
There wasn’t a kid or school bus in sight, but I abided.
Sort of.
I reduced my speed from forty to, like, twenty-nine, so any nearby cop would see that I was at least making an effort.
And as I slowed down, my attention shifted to my windshield, for no particular reason, which I noticed was covered in dust.
I’d parked in the airport parking garage in one of the outer rows, which was open to the elements.
That likely explained the dust.
I switched on the wipers and gave the windshield a quick hit of washer fluid.
Then, a moment later, still in the school zone, I noticed something blur past me on my left.
It was the car that had been behind me, whose occupants I’d been observing since exiting the expressway.
The driver had gunned it and pulled around me, maneuvering directly in front of my car.
Once there, he jammed on his brakes and slowed to a near-crawl, forcing me to do the same.
And then he turned on his windshield washer, spraying down both his car and mine with washer fluid.
He was like a Chinese Sukhoi fighter pilot making an unsafe intercept of a U.S. patrol aircraft over the South China Sea.
Real mature, I thought.
The driver appeared to think I’d deliberately slowed down and washed my windshield as some form of harassment.
Which was ridiculous.
Once I’d safely averted rear-ending the guy, I stayed right on his ass, determined to show him his little temper tantrum had had no effect on me.
Even as I started to develop a healthy case of road rage.
Ten seconds later, he flipped on his blinker and turned off into a neighborhood.
And I continued on my way, asphyxiating the driver in my mind with a well-executed choke hold.
Fucking asshole.
I eventually snapped out of it and started coaching myself through a breathing exercise to help me calm down.
And I lamented why I couldn’t have had fifty-caliber machine guns pointing out of my headlights like James Bond to better deal with the situation.
Suffice it to say I had an entirely different conversation with myself during the remainder of the drive home.
Rather than lecture myself on giving in to stereotypes, I instead congratulated myself for having judged the occupants of the car behind me perfectly accurately the first instant I’d noticed them.
Not only had the driver’s behavior reinforced my existing notions of all people who shared his same characteristics, but it will also serve to perpetuate them indefinitely.
Whenever I see another person who even slightly resembles that dude, I will instinctively assume the worst.
Which may or may not be fair.
But, frankly, who gives a shit?
It’s like this:
We’re hard-wired to make quick generalizations about the people we encounter, based upon the observable qualities they present.
And sometimes those generalizations are inaccurate, leading us to misjudge people.
While it’s unlikely we’ll ever stop stereotyping, it’s useful to develop the discipline to routinely challenge one’s preconceived notions of people.
Even while you leave open the possibility your initial impressions are accurate.
And that’s because no matter what stereotype a person fits, good or bad,
Assholes are everywhere.
And, apparently, those assholes hate it
When you wash your windshield while driving in front of them.
Which is exactly what I’ll do
Every time
I see dudes like the ones I encountered the other day
Driving behind me.