When Is a Difficult Person not a Difficult Person?

A distinguished senior officer burst into my waiting room and came right through into my office.¹ He was holding a furled umbrella high over his head and shouted angrily, “Where should I go if I want to launch a complaint against you?!! You are a very difficult person!!!!!!!””

It was 1973. I had been appointed by the MIT President and Chancellor as an early type of organizational ombudsperson. I was expected to be completely confidential, independent and impartial—albeit with a special concern for gender, race and religion. I had no management decision-making power. I kept a low profile. I was taken aback at this man’s anger.

I explained that anyone could complain to my two bosses about me. And then I listened to his anger, hoping to understand. Why did he find me “very difficult”?

He had understood (correctly) that I had suggested to other senior officers that women undergraduates might be included in a meeting about the future of the MIT/ Wellesley exchange. I had pointed out that a particular decision perhaps ought not be made without the students’ input—and in any case, maybe ought not be made immediately, until some specific information could be gathered, as the women students had requested. It turned out that in this I had disagreed with his point of view.

I do not know if he made a complaint. But as I remember, we later bonded a bit about issues of race. I had returned to the US from some years in the Caribbean and in Africa. In WWII he had served with Black servicemen, at times as a lone white officer. Decades later he was deeply committed to anything and everything MIT could do for people of color and especially for Black students—including listening to Black students. In later discussions about equity, I could always find a “bridge” with him if there were any connection with race and color. Although I think he never altogether forgave me for my gender, perhaps I was not always a difficult person.

But the interaction set me thinking about difficult people. What makes a person a difficult person? And when is a difficult person not a difficult person? I soon had collected many cases.

There was the senior faculty person who, in a first visit, railed at me for perhaps an hour about the Medical Department. (Doctors had not immediately cured the faculty member’s painful repetitive strain injuries). I likely spoke no more than twice in that hour, unable even to ask a question. However, in many discussions about many topics over the next few years, after the injuries had healed, I listened, deeply interested, to the same faculty member. This person was now ubiquitously kind, thoughtful, balanced, generous, hard-working and a remarkably delightful colleague.

Then, there came times when senior officers complained to me about faculty who were impossible—simply impossible. These same faculty were often polite and friendly with me, and would return to being their collegial selves in the department when some issue important to them got addressed or at least “heard.”

Then there was a researcher who at first was distinctively rude and generally self-centered, whom I suddenly found delightful at every visit. What had changed? The researcher had undertaken to teach me about the culture and history of their academic discipline. I was fascinated and grateful. That researcher has been, ever after, a kind and generous colleague. I then began to take notes for my own guidance, for my students and for other complaint handlers; the reader might add many more.

Dealing with a Difficult Person:

When is a Difficult Person not a Difficult Person?* 

• When I perceive the “difficult person” to be “like me,” or like someone I love.
• When someone else can deal with the difficult person who does not find that person difficult.
• When people get their own way.
• When the person is not feeling threatened.
• When the person agrees with me about something important, or listens to me or is helping me.
• When it is useful for me for the person to be difficult (with someone else).
• When other people are around, and “being observed” constrains the difficult person.
• When we are alone, together, and the person relaxes because there is no audience.
• When all the issues at hand are depersonalized.
• When we laugh at the same things, and laugh together fairly frequently.
• When the person recognizes superior power and relevant rules, and calms down.
• When the person is effectively sanctioned and stopped by others.
• When we all are focused on a common goal and immersed in the work or when we face a common risk or a common enemy.
• When the “difficult person” is well prepared, as compared to their norm of unpreparedness.
• When I am not in the person’s way.
• When the person is appreciated/recognized/rewarded for genuine achievements.
• When the person recovers from illness or injury, or from being afraid or anxious.
• When I see it’s just the person’s outward style, and learn to like and trust the “real” person.
• When an important stress is suddenly off both of us, and “the time is right.”

*Difficult people may not believe, or know or care that they are seen to be difficult people. We probably cannot change other people, but these ideas may bring inspiration.

[1] Many small details in the anecdotes in this article have been changed to protect confidentiality.

Mary Rowe (@mroweOO) is an Adjunct Professor of Negotiation and Conflict Management at the MIT Sloan School of Management. She served for almost 42 years as an organizational ombuds reporting directly to five presidents of MIT.