Your bullies

Good for you.

By the way, I'm looking to break into TV ....

 

High school or college?

I wasn't much of a bully, but for whatever reason I used to harass one particular kid in high school at times. I recently found him on facebook and apologized for being a dick when we were kids.

He never responded and I didn't really expect him to. I just wanted him to know that I regret the way I behaved.

 

Elementary, junior high and high school. I got it bad for years. There are times I want to post my last tax return and ask all of them how Wal-Mart is working out.
But, W_B, that was decent of you to at least try to apologize.

 

This thread reminded me of an old story from my dad.

Growing up in the late 50s, early 60s he was getting pounded by these three guys for a long stretch in middle school. He came home beat up pretty bad and told my grandpa what was going on. Grandpa told him to catch the little chickenshits alone and give them hell. The next time he saw one alone, kick their ass - my dad had a habit of taking things real literally.

The first one he caught in front of an apartment in the school. The kid didn't want to mess with him alone, but dad got him down and pounded his face into the front steps. They took the kid to the hospital and sent my dad to the police station.

Second one, my dad ran down in an alley after he started shit with him in front of the store.

Third one, who was the lead instigator, he had to wait a while to get.

Flashforward about nine or 10 years, my dad takes his car to get worked on at a dealership. He walks in and a mechanic says one of the guys working there knows him. He points him out and it's guy no. 3, who comes walking up with this big shit-eating, smart-assed grin on his face. My dad drops him right there in the garage, gets in his car and leaves.

One of my grandpa's favorite stories.

 

That is awesome.

 

I had an entire infield do that to me during games. They'd do their best to make every throw tough for me to pick up. I didn't get to all of them, and those I didn't catch, well, they were obviously my fault. I never understood that.

 

I never really was bullied, although when I was young I would have been described as husky. I had hand-eye coordination, played first base and hit fifth in the lineup of an 18-0 Dixie League team, played quarterback two different seasons in the town flag football league, and was considered one of the better shooters every year in little dribblers.

I say that not to sound arrogant, but to point out that, even if you're not physically the all-American boy, if you have any kind of athletic ability, they leave you alone.

The only time I remember people picking on us - my friends and I in fourth-sixth grades - was when the baseball-playing types made fun of us who were in Gifted and Talented. So, one day in fourth grade, four of us challenge four of them to a playground basketball game.

They agree, laughing and talking to each other under their breath.

Well, we wailed on them. Beat them 44-22. At that age, I kept up with every stat I ever had, whether it be in a league or just playground stuff. I dropped 22 and 20 on those jackasses.

Once we got into the sixth and seventh grades, they all liked us. I just felt sorry for the kids who continued to be picked on relentlessly by the baseball crowd.

Football and basketball guys were never really a problem.

 

See, this is what worries me most about my kids getting to be school-age. I have no idea how I will help them deal with stuff like this. Nowadays, you stand up to a kid, at best you get expelled for fighting. At worst, the kid brings back a gun or something.

I got bullied in school. I was fat and not pretty, a fatal combination for a girl. I didn't have good clothes. No athletic ability. There were big chunks of school that were horrible. But the absolute worst thing about it is how the way you are treated in those years can affect your entire life.

I have never had a lot of confidence in myself, and it's taken me a long time -- a LONG time -- to not expect people to automatically be mean to me or dislike me. I remember when I came to this current job and made a friend at work. She invited me to come hang out with her husband and her regular group. I remember being anxious about it and going expecting them to not like me, to ignore me or worse.

I was 29 years old.

 

I was never bullied and never bullied anyone despite my size. I was a good-sized boy, a baseball player and okay looking, so I didn't exactly have a target on my back.

Only two incidents:

1. Maybe third or fourth grade. Dumbass guy was chasing a girl around class who doesn't want to be bothered. Teacher wasn't doing shit about it. They ran through the aisle where my desk was ... girl went past, I got up and threw an elbow in the kid's face. Messy, but I didn't get in trouble.

2. Ninth grade. Dumbass JV football player walked up to me before class, showed me a pen and asked "Why don't I just stab you right now?" Mind you, the teacher is in the room. Where's the fucking control? I slapped the pen out of his hand, went for his neck and started choking him. Somehow my existence offended him deeply, but I barely knew the motherfucker. Didn't get in trouble that time either.

Don't know what happened to either, and don't really care. The lesson: When word circulates that you might be shit nuts, people tend to leave you the fuck alone.

 

It took me until eighth grade to reach 5-foot-2, and I had yet to tip the scales at 100 pounds when I graduated from high school. I did, however, have large, football-playing friends. They made sure I didn't take any shit. I made sure they had answers to tests when they needed them. A win-win, I'd say.

 

I moved to a new school in the city, and this kid Moody and his loser buddies were hassling people for their lunch money. I offered Linderman, a giant, mysterious guy who was rumored to have killed his younger brother, my lunch money in exchange for protecting me from Moody.

All was well for a while until Moody got his own tough guy, Mike, and they ganged up on Linderman and pushed this motorcycle he'd been rebuilding into the lake.

It turned out OK, though. Me and Linderman bonded, and in the end there was an epic fight where I broke Moody's nose and Linderman kicked Mike's ass.

(Anyone who gets this can be my instant BFF)