Write about an encounter with a very difficult person
In response to John Holton’s Writer’s Workshop for February 24, 2026
I choose 3.
There comes a time in every mild-mannered person’s life when you look back and think, “Why didn’t I say something? Why didn’t I slap that comeback onto the grill and serve it hot?” For me, that moment came in the form of a man I like to call Blunt Bob – because calling him Truthzilla, Destroyer of Workplace Peace seemed a tad aggressive (and HR said no).
Bob had a superpower. Not flying, not invisibility – no, that would have required subtlety. His power? Brutal honesty, served with the emotional intelligence of a traffic cone.
“You look tired,” he’d say, peering at you as if you were a soggy dishrag.
Translation: You look like you were dragged through a hedge by a caffeinated badger.
“Don’t take it personally,” he’d shrug, “I just call it like I see it.”
Yeah Bob, and serial killers also follow their truth.
At first, I thought I was the chosen one. The only target of Bob’s unsalted candor. Like a roasted chicken under the heat lamp of his feedback. But then… it spread.
First, it was Karen from finance. One minute she’s presenting a new spreadsheet model; next minute Bob’s saying, “Well, that’s a bold approach. If your goal was to confuse a goldfish.”
Karen hasn’t made eye contact with Excel since.
Then came Pete. Sweet, gentle Pete. All he did was bring in cookies.
Bob: “These taste like regret.”
Pete hasn’t baked since. His stand mixer now lives in a therapy group for emotionally abused appliances.
Every time someone gasped or blinked rapidly to suppress a tear, Bob would launch into a TED Talk:
“Honesty is the highest form of respect. Sugarcoating is for people who can’t handle reality.”
Translation: I enjoy verbal dropkicks. Deal with it.
But here’s the kicker. Bob could dish it – but he couldn’t take it.
One time, someone asked him gently if his PowerPoint had a typo. He reacted like they’d insulted his ancestors. He whipped out a 3-page thesis explaining why it was a stylistic choice, complete with footnotes and a bar graph labeled “You’re Wrong and Here’s Why.”
I watched in dismay. I nodded, smiled, and I said nothing. And every time, I kicked myself later. Why did I let him verbally kung fu chop us into submission?
Then came the party. Oh, the glorious party. A casual office BBQ. Bob brought his kid – an angel-faced, juice-box-wielding truth grenade named Max.
Bob was holding court, as usual, explaining to a group how “some people just aren’t built for leadership.”
Then Max piped up, loudly and with toddler-level obliviousness:
“Daddy, why do you always say mean things when people are happy?”
Silence. You could hear the ketchup squeeze bottle recoil in horror. Bob froze. His eyes darted around. Everyone stared. Someone dropped a sausage.
Max took a bite of his hotdog and added:
“You said Ms. Karen looked like a potato. Potatoes are nice. But she cried.”
BOOM. That was it. The downfall. The crumbling of Mount Bluntmore. To Bob’s credit, he didn’t explode. He just sort of… deflated. Like a balloon that farted itself into a corner.
Later, he pulled me aside.
“Was I really that bad?”
I nodded.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
I said, “Because I was trying to be kind. But maybe too kind. Wimp-kind.” We both laughed awkwardly.
So, what would I do differently, if I could turn back time?
Simple. I’d carry a mirror. Not metaphorically – an actual mirror. Every time Bob said something savage, I’d hold it up and say:
“Let’s all reflect on that, shall we?”
I might’ve printed his quotes on inspirational posters and hung them up ironically.
“These taste like regret” over a scenic mountain lake.
“You look tired” with a kitten in a hammock.
And more importantly, I’d have spoken up – not with malice, but with spine. Because kindness without courage is just surrender dressed in pastels.
The lesson? Give people the benefit of the doubt. Be kind. But never let “polite” turn you into a doormat.
And if you ever meet someone like Bob, just wait. Karma might be wearing velcro shoes and holding a juice box.
Disclaimer:
All names and scenarios in this post have been fictionalized or altered for the purpose of humor and storytelling. Any resemblance to real people, living or otherwise, is purely coincidental. This piece is intended in good spirit and does not aim to offend or target any individual.
P.S. A little déjà vu? This mischievous nugget appeared in an earlier challenge too.
That said, we’ve all met (or been) a “Blunt Bob” at some point. Such personalities do exist, and while honesty is valuable, kindness and self-awareness are too. Let’s all take a moment to introspect before we act like a know-it-all, because there’s a fine line between being honest and being just plain condescending.
© Rohini 2009–2025.
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