The Intimidator

I had a major breakthrough recently that might just change the way I think of myself forever more. You see, in a recent feedback survey conducted at work to discover whether or not I was scarring for life all the students I encounter on a daily basis or providing them with life-changing experiences of intellectual and inspirational brilliance, it turns out that one student – that’s right, an entire one – considers me to be intimidating.

I laughed, I cried, I raised a glass to the great god of teaching in the sky and I whispered the words I’ve been longing to whisper for almost twenty-eight years: ‘At last!’

This was quite a triumph. Far from taking this as a negative slur that I was in someway unapproachable and generally discouraging in my demeanour – all of which may well be true on occasion – I found myself fascinated by the prospect that I, one of the world’s most intimidated people, might somehow be transformed into an actual intimidator, someone so terrifying that cowering in the corner becomes a common response when I’m on the prowl.

I haven’t seen the latest charts but I’m sure I’m probably still in the top 10 when it comes to the ‘People who are most intimidated by others and who live trapped in a world of paranoid fear that everyone around them is about to beat them up’ list. It’s a bit of a mouthful so we haven’t worked out an acronym for ourselves yet – in fact, we’re not entirely convinced we could cope with the pressure an acronym would bring – but we’re a group that exists, don’t you worry about that, and I’m well and truly up there with the best/worst of us. Being beaten up is not a possibility, it’s an inevitability and it’s one that I am afraid of on an almost daily basis. It doesn’t matter how old you are, what gender you are or whether you are even human, if you are walking past me or opposite me on my way to and from work or anywhere else that might cause me to come in contact with the general public (or, as we call them, the Murderous Legion) then I will be convinced, utterly convinced, that my time is drawing to a close. To put it simply, I will not only be intimidated, I will be the perfect symbolic presence of what it means to be intimidated.

And yet, here we are in the world the other side of the survey and now what am I to think? If I can be deemed intimidating then we might as well all give up now. Or, at least, I might as well – you don’t have to respond on the basis of events happening in my life if you really don’t want to. Perhaps I should embrace this newfound ability to intimidate and should stride down the corridor with undue swagger, nodding my head to a silent beat, chewing invisible gum and staring into the eyes of everyone who dared look me in the face? For the first time in my life I could utter the phrase ‘what are you looking at?’ without genuinely wanting to know the answer. And if all else fails I can rattle off a string of swear words bearing no relation to the topic being discussed, just because I can and just because no-one out there can tell me how I should talk.

On the other hand, I could just assume that the student in question has made a grave mistake and that they clearly have no idea what the word ‘intimidating’ means. They probably thought it meant ‘helpful and smiley’. Surely that makes far more sense really? And, just to make sure I get the right response this time around, I think I’ll ask them to stay behind afterwards and sit in the flimsy plastic chair opposite me while I fold my arms, lower the tone of my voice and put on the biggest frown I can muster. We’ll see who’s intimidating then…won’t we?

Won’t we?

I said…won’t we?