In Praise Of Difficult People Who Lift US Above Mediocrity

On his desk at work a young man has a book, "How to Cope with Difficult People." One deduces that he is troubled by a critic's comments. Perhaps he feels it is all unfair and he is being picked on unduly. Provided that his critic's comments are not unkind, but are meant to be edifying, he is a lucky man.

I have read those types of books, for I am the daughter of a woman who was a genius at many things. She was bright, beautiful, funny, enormously talented, and hard to get along with. Now that she is dead and the pressure is off, hindsight shows that her judgment was correct.

Now that I am in my middle years and the errors of youth are behind me, I praise difficult people - the ones who are not unkind, but who are determined; the ones who present to us the folly of our ideas or deeds, the ones who demand better of us. They are the ones who refuse to go along with the crowd, who insist that our visions can be achieved, who demand from us hard work, perseverance and clear thinking. Praise is rightfully theirs.

Let us distinguish those good-hearted people from those who are just plain ornery. Ornery people twist facts to their liking, lie to make things sound better, manipulate emotions in order to obtain a benefit, accuse nice people of bad motives, and generally misbehave. These are not difficult people; they are mean. The difficult people whom I praise are those who set high standards for themselves and achieve them. They don't say, "I'll try." They say, "I will." They expect us to attain their standards whether we want to or not.

Let us praise them, although they sometimes tread on our feelings and make us feel ignoble. Not always tactful, not always gentle, these difficult people push us toward a superiority of thought and deed. They correct falseness, chastise poor performance, condemn bad behavior and snub what is unworthy. They won't "Letcha get away with nuttin.' " Hallelujah! Difficult people are realists. They know what makes the world tick. They know the greatness and depth of the human spirit and push us into achievements that we thought were either impossible or too much work. They demand that we respect ourselves enough to do the hard tasks well. And when we fail, they encourage us to try again, they offer tips on how to succeed; they don't let us throw in the towel.

In this age of being cool, of using psycho-pop jargon, of giving everyone his/her own space, of being nonjudgmental and supportive of failure; in this age of things that are OK and tasks that are done poorly, let us praise difficult people. They are not cool, they are demanding, they don't respect our space because our space is detrimental to all that is noble.

They are judgmental: They let us know clearly and concisely that we have failed; that we can do better, and they expect excellence from us. They know that allowing failure is not kindness; accepting weakness does not strengthen us. They demand much and watch our spirits take fire. They know that accepting less is not better; it is ignoble. They know that allowing us to have the habit of poor performance insidiously makes the world an evil place. I admire the strength of these kind-hearted, difficult people.

As I age, I observe myself changing from a person who thinks everyone and everything is OK into a person who is difficult, and I am astonished. I am becoming my mother. Like Mother, I have no intention of becoming a nosy, busy-body crusader who is holier than thou, but I do intend to have the table set properly, the hedges trimmed, the weeds pulled, and my work returned to my boss on time and in fit form. I find myself pulled along by Mother's sense of the rightness of things. Although she is dead, she lives in my spirit, and I am glad.

Yes, and to you living, breathing, difficult people; you kind, funny, demanding men and women: Continue your course unashamed. You are making the corners of the world a better place. You are creating order out of chaos, excellence out of mediocrity. You are the unsung knights of the modern world. Knowing you, you will carry on your tasks with modesty abounding.

(Judith F. Johnston lives in SeaTac.) Essay appears Sundays in Scene, aimed, as all of Scene is, at the styles and vagaries of everyday life. It includes articles from readers, syndicated columnists and Times staff. If you would like to contribute a piece for consideration, please address it to Essay, c/o Scene, The Seattle Times, P.O. Box 70, Seattle, WA 98111. Please keep your essays to no more than three double-spaced typewritten pages, and include your name, address and a daytime telephone number.