Speaking Different Languages

"What do you hope to get out of mediation?"

The question is being put to me by a pair of pleasant, friendly women who have been engaged by my employing organisation (yes! the council has actually forked out cash!!) in a vain, last-ditch attempt to mitigate the appalling train smash to which they have so ably contributed.

I admit to Mediators that I have lost sight of my original objectives, and that in many ways I have lost interest. But I have committed to this process, and so after some deliberation the best I can come up with is that I would like to be managed appropriately.

Line Manager is the other participant in this process. Sitting in a room at close quarters with him is very difficult, but I remain as calm and quiet as I am able. Given that we are trying to recover from a series of highly unpleasant and distressing conflicts, I anticipate that Line Manager will adopt a similar tone. So it is quite shocking (but in retrospect, not in the least surprising) to realise that despite the circumstances Line Manager is unable to stop himself from:

a) being sarcastic
b) speaking aggressively
c) jabbing his finger towards me
d) grimacing
e) revealing shedloads of not particularly well repressed anger

I say "unable to stop himself" because it dawns on me very early on in the process that the rest of us are speaking a language which Line Manager is simply unable to understand. Even the Mediators appear shocked at the lack of self-control which Line Manager is demonstrating. And the sheer pointless futility of it all suddenly makes me want to weep.

There are some helpful outcomes - albeit unexpected, unrecorded and unofficial.

Line Manager admits that shouting at me was wrong. He admits that dragging members of my team into the scenario was inappropriate. He admits that he deliberately involved Remora because he knew it would cause me maximum upset. He admits that his actions resulted in co-workers taking sides, and me becoming the target for their petty unpleasantness and bullying. And he acknowledges how badly I have been affected by everything that has happened - far more so than he himself has been.

I agree to a way forward which is based on strictly professional and task-oriented discussions. And then I politely explain to Line Manager that he is not my friend and never will be; so could he please stop trying to have friendly conversations with me because it makes me feel intense discomfort.

When the meeting ends, and Line Manager asks if I am walking back to the Town Hall, I say no, I am going for a coffee first. And just in case he intends to do his "hovering" thing, I walk straight into the Ladies and wait inside for ten minutes until I can be absolutely sure he has gone away.