I'm thrilled to publish a guest post from my former student, James Post. I thoroughly enjoyed teaching him when he was in eleventh grade and have been delighted every time I've gotten to catch up with him since his graduation. James has always been a remarkable writer, so I was elated when he agreed to my request for a Post post.
Before I let you read his words, I have to admit that I was surprised by his essay's title since, as far as I know, James gets along well with everyone. In addition to being intelligent and talented, James is humble, kind, curious, and hard-working. He's not a make-enemies kind of guy.
And as a final note before you see what he wrote, I think it's fair for me to throw the gauntlet to other former students of mine. It's never too late to write a guest post for this blog, and I promise not to fill your work with incomprehensible grammar numbers. In James's class, he was a talented student among other talented students. JB, IB, PC, PH, SJ, WJ, JSK, HK, ML, AM, CS, BS (congrats on your recent wedding), MS, and JT–you were a remarkable group; I'm sure you're all still wonderful people. While I know you don't all read my blog, maybe you can find one another and agree that all of you will write one more essay for me. Other former students as well, wouldn't it be fun to share your words on this site?
Okay, enough from me. Here is James Post's guest post:
I like telling those who visit my apartment building that I have a nemesis: an old man who sits in the lobby and greets folks as they enter or exit the building.
“Hey there, kid,” he’ll say as I head out to work. “What’s the big hurry?”
His primary offense is calling me “kid.” I’m sensitive about condescension. But that’s not all; he has a dog.
“Watch out, she’ll nip your ankles,” he once said to me in the elevator. The dog is smaller than a bread box and moves like an arthritic robot. She looked up at me with blank eyes.
He is undoubtedly nefarious, but nothing I can’t handle. I acknowledge his presence and close the conversation with a firm “Have a good one.” Then I brace myself for our next encounter.
Everyone in my building handles him in their own way. Once, a young woman joined my nemesis and me in the elevator. He said “Hey, how’s it going?” and she said nothing. “Must’ve hurt,” he said to me when she left the elevator. “Must’ve hurt for her to respond.” I felt a pang of sympathy for him, but wondered how many nemeses she encounters each day.
“You’re terrible,” my friend told me. “He’s just a lonely old man.” Though I call him a nemesis in jest, I do find myself getting genuinely annoyed with him. Why does he believe he can demand attention from others? But then I’ll look out my window and see him walking his teetering dog down the sidewalk. From a distance, I can appreciate his attempts to engage in pleasant conversation. Why do I struggle to respond in kind? It's hard not to feel that I am the true villain.
My nemesis doesn’t appear to grapple with self-doubt. He sits in the lobby morning and night, ready to greet his neighbors. Meanwhile I’ve started to use the building’s back door.
Do you have a nemesis? Share your reactions below.
Your neighbor doesn’t appear to grapple, while you use the back door. …I’ve been there, and wish I had better insight.
Hi Pattie, James might also reply, but I thought I’d just second that having insight into James’ nemesis’ way of approaching the world is tricky to understand.