I’m in the theatre with a group of friends waiting for The Dark Knight to start. My camera bag sits on the chair beside me, booking a seat for a friend buying drinks. There’s a good two minutes before the trailers start rolling plus another ten minutes before the movie begins and I could describe the ambient anticipation, the feel of an audience with nigh insurmountable expectations for the film to come, but I won’t. This isn’t about them.
A man in a suit saunters up to me, glances at the camera bag. Then he lifts it high and hurls it hard onto the floor. People look up at the thump.
“Excuse me?” I say.
He doesn’t respond. He’s too busy rearranging his legs atop the seat in front of him, placing its occupant in close proximity with his black leather shoes.
“Hey,” I say, “I was saving that seat for a friend.”
“Well!” he says, finally acknowledging my existence. “This is me not giving a fuck.”
At this point his antics have gained notice of a pal beside me who tells him as kindly as possible that he’s being a jerk. The man’s response is an extended
fuck off.
“Well, I hope you love yourself,” says Dan.
“Oh yes, I love myself. I’m awesome. Why are we still talking about this?”
“Yeah, because it’s obvious that talking to you won’t change anything.”
“Exactly. Now shut up.”
“Chill,” I tell Dan. “He’s either drunk or a banker.”
I could continue in this vein, explaining how his equally obnoxious friend threatened me while he was out to the bathroom. I could go into detail about how he screamed his opinions at every trailer, had a loud conversation about how great he looked in a suit and through all of this was completely sober. But this isn’t about him either.
This is about how I didn’t lose my temper, for just a few years ago I would have engaged in a screaming match and probably lost. There are very few ways to crack a man like that. He’s one of the entitled many who have discovered that being loud, rude and selfish usually gets you what you want because the average person is either too shocked or polite to call you out on it. That wasn’t why I backed down, though, it was because I didn’t care enough. I daresay high school forced me to develop a controlled sense of apathy and it’s helped me ever since. I don’t care if his brusque belligerence earns him a six-figure salary or erects a glass ceiling above his head. I also don’t care if he goes too far and gets knifed in the chest tomorrow. Because there’s a lesson to be learnt here: even as you strive for altruism, keep your sense of apathy close at hand. Some people are worth caring about and some are not, and it keep you sane to be able to block out the latter.
