The tong lady

I’m assembling the worst peanut butter and jelly sandwich on the planet in the cafeteria at the Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health.

Organic, all-natural peanut butter and jam that is essentially raspberry-flavored seeds.

I’m sure it would’ve been delicious had I not been me.

I open a bread box and reach in for two of the four remaining slices of peasant bread (which, as far as I can tell, is also called bread) when a woman from somewhere behind me says, “Use the tongs!”

I hear the words, pause, but then ignore them, thinking she isn’t speaking to me. I don’t see any tongs and can’t imagine needing tongs to extract two slices of bread from this box.

So I reach again, and once again, I hear, “Use the tongs!” More forcefully this time.

I turn.

The woman, I realize, is speaking to me. She’s sitting about 15 feet away at a table, eating her lunch, her chair angled so she can face in my direction.

I can’t believe it. Someone already eating is also monitoring the bread box, ensuring that people like me use the tongs.

She’s the damn tong police.

Many options race through my mind. Some are more aggressive than others. I take a second, consider my choices, then turn and saunter over to the woman. I stop at her table, smile, and say, “Really? Is this what you do?”

I can’t believe what follows.

She stares at me for a moment, then smiles, laughs a little, and says, “You’re right. Sorry.”

Completely friendly. Wholly apologetic. Utterly kind and reasonable. Actually amused with herself.

I had been expecting more. So much more. I had anticipated conflict, and honestly, I was hoping for it. I thought I was ready for all the possibilities that might follow, but I wasn’t prepared for rationality, reasonability, or kindness.

I was so annoyed.

Which, I realize, says a lot about me (and not all good):

I like conflict. I treasure verbal debate. Years of verbal combat versus a stepfather, followed by a career on the college debate circuit (two-time state champion), followed by two decades of writing things that often manage to annoy or upset a small (and sometimes large) group of people, have left me relishing a good argument.

This isn’t all bad. Many times, my willingness to jump into the fray can be exceedingly useful, especially for those who are more reticent about engaging in conflict. I often find myself speaking for those less willing. Sometimes people come to me, asking me to take up the mantle of disagreement on their behalf.

But actively seeking conflict? Looking for opportunities to disagree, even when the reason for arguing is less than necessary?

That might not be my best quality. Looking for a fight might not be the best thing.

On this particular day, I had failed to find a fight because I had forgotten to consider one crucial factor:

I was at the Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health. This place is filled with the most introspective, kind, and thoughtful people. You go to Kripalu to find peace, understanding, and centeredness. When someone at Kripalu is accused of acting like the tong police, their response is not outrage or anger. Instead, they opt to be reflective and objective.

Seeking conflict at a place like Kripalu is a fool’s errand.

Elysha has always said that I’m an odd fit at Kripalu. Perhaps this is why.