Everyone’s got their stock nightmare, right? Taking an exam you haven’t revised for, being naked in public, all your teeth falling out. Mine is being in a public forum where everyone in the audience is booing me. A nightmare which came true for tennis player Novak Djokovic at Wimbledon yesterday, during a match against Holger Rune.
In an on-court interview after the game, Djokovic claimed that the crowd was booing him, in fact he sort of celebrated it, saying: “To all the fans that have had respect and stayed here tonight, I thank you from the bottom of my heart and I appreciate it… And to all those people that have chosen to disrespect the player – in this case me – have a goooooooood night” making the “good” sound like a booing noise.
The interviewer asked him if perhaps the crowd might have been expressing support for Rune rather than distaste for Djokovic, which he roundly dismissed, saying: “Listen, I have been on the tour for more than 20 years. I know all the tricks. I focus on the respectful people that pay for the ticket, and love tennis and appreciate the players. I played in much more hostile environments, trust me – you guys can’t touch me.”
I’ve watched his interview about 10 times now, and I still can’t stop thinking about it. What must it be like to be that at ease with people apparently disliking you? What level of mental stability do you require to stand in front of a crowd of people, lots of whom are making an active effort to share their disapproval, and just, deal with it?
Last week I went on a tour of a local primary school, as a prospective parent. I got chatting to another woman on the tour. Within seconds I started cracking jokes, complimenting her outfit and trying to make the baby she was carrying smile. I carefully tracked how she responded to anything I said and then leaned into that, like a real-time analytics report for my own behaviour. For the next half hour rather than asking questions about how much screen time the children were getting or what their SATs scores were like, I put on a one woman show titled Making This Woman Whose Name I Don’t Know Like Me.
This behaviour isn’t unusual for me, in fact it’s near constant. On the same school tour I found myself asking questions so that the head would think I was an enthusiastic and engaged parent. On the way home I made conversation with a cab driver because I wanted him to think I was nice, I did a load of errands I didn’t want to do because it’s important to be helpful, and I bit my tongue in a WhatsApp group when once again various friends flaked on a plan we’d had for weeks, because I’m nervous about making anyone cross. Every time I leave a social interaction I give myself an internal grading about how well I did and how much the person I’ve just spoken to would come away thinking that they like me.
Intermittently, because I write for a living and sometimes appear on television, I will say something which people don’t like. I’ll then spend days defending myself on social media because I am pathologically incapable of allowing anyone to think badly of me if it’s at all possible that I might be able to win them around.
Both publicly and privately I find myself occasionally watering down my deeply held political opinions to avoid giving offence. The desire to be liked runs through the core of literally everything I do.
After last week’s election I watched, horrified, as Jess Phillips gave a victory speech in Birmingham Yardley. Her words were initially drowned out by boos from men in the audience. I could barely watch as she valiantly went on with her speech before eventually asking for the men to be removed from the audience. Mixed with my horror at these men being so staggeringly rude was another impulse. I was practically shouting at the screen “Be nice! You can win them back around if you’re just nice!” If I were Phillips I’d have pandered, I’d have made jokes and given the other candidates a load of compliments, desperate the get back the approval of the room.
Of course it probably wouldn’t have worked, and in doing so I’d have lost the dignity that I saw both Djokovic and Phillips demonstrate when they decided not to pander the their crowd. There’s a staggering power to looking at a group of people who’ve decided that they don’t like you and inviting them to lean into it.
Not caring whether people like you or not is a genuine super-power, allowing you to focus on doing whatever you regard as important and right, rather than what will give the most immediate short term approval. Being desperate to be liked is exhausting, time consuming and ultimately fruitless. I’ve been a people pleaser since childhood but I’m fairly sure that I’m not actually any more widely liked than anyone I know who embraces the Djokovic school of interpersonal skills.
I am, therefore, resolving to take a leaf out of the Djokovic/Phillips playbook and accept that sometimes, you’re not going to have the crowd on your side, and that it’s better to stand up for yourself than to be universally liked… just as long as that’s okay with everyone.
