Dale Carnegie

Went for lunch with Nat today as I’m working near his office. We had omelette and chips at Nico’s cafe. Nat said I am not “winning friends and influencing people” a la Dale Carnegie. Carnegie promotes friendliness and flattery as key components of success and the sad thing is, it works. If I’m dealing with an old battleaxe on the phone and if I say something really nice about them I will always get a result.

So why did I not do the same with the charmless hag who’s been firing off rude emails to me over the last week about a phone line in her office I once used.

I think it was her “Development Executive” title that annoyed me. If she’s such a bigwig why can’t she order one of her minions to sort it out? My sixth sense let me down. I should have known people were still phoning for me on that line. What a nuisance to “her team”.

Oh how I wish I’d tapped into my inner calm a la Bridget Jones instead of losing my temper. Life is just too short. Sophia Wurzle also needs to learn how to Carnegie people.

I decided to renew efforts to keep my anger levels in check.

"How?" asked Nat.
"By visualising a shiny, happy person – someone like Larni Mukta (my friend’s sister). She’s always smiling and always has time to talk."

I left Nico's cafe with great expectations. From now on I would radiate that same warmth and loveliness. I also decided that when I got home I would copy out inspiring affirmations and stick them around the house.

"That's really not necessary," Nat said.

I returned to the office with a new found tranquility. All afternoon I transcended niggles and negativity from Sophia Wurzle in an ocean of calm. I’m sure this is how born again Christians feel.

The new me lasted about 3 hours. She was killed off by a loud Australian woman who got on the train and sat directly opposite on the way home. The woman took out a mobile phone and rang her long lost friend. Then began her entire life story. Fellow passengers and I learned she'd had a tough childhood when her rich parents wouldn't buy her an expensive necklace, was now having man trouble, was reading "Women Who Love Too Much" and that her mother has a swollen thyroid and is taking iodine for it.

I tried to visualise Larni Mukta while my fingers tapped a merry rhythm on the unread pages of my book. I glared, hoping to embarrass her into silence. It was futile. She never noticed the small manic woman with dark hair giving her evil eyes. All the goodness sapped out of me. Soon there’ll be mobiles on planes and tubes. At this point I will despair and become a hermit.

I wondered what Dale Carnegie would do in this situation.