Good listening and the art of apology

In the We Can Do Hard Things with Glennon Doyle podcast, in an interview with writer Celeste Ng (Little Fires Everywhere), Doyle talks about teaching her daughter’s third grade class the art of the apology. She wonders aloud why we teach kids for 12 weeks about Christopher Columbus (read: Captain Cook), and not this one necessary life skill. 

For the record, here’s what Harvard Health says. ‘For an apology to be effective, it has to be genuine. A successful apology validates that the other person felt offended, and acknowledges responsibility (you accept that your actions caused the other person pain).’ The next step is a genuine change in behaviour. You want to convey that you truly feel sorry and care about the person who was hurt, and promise to make amends, including by taking steps to avoid similar mishaps going forward.’ (Reference below.)

I think the basic skills of a good apology - along with a lot of other skills I’m just learning myself - would be covered in Grade Three at schools here in Melbourne. Spending time with kids, I’ve heard about their experiences at school as compared with ours (School of 2000, over here - shout out to all the 1982s). 

It’s not the same in other places. I can’t imagine that kids learn that stuff anywhere that you can’t get a copy of The Age after 11am (not because it’s popular, but because they only order 3 copies - the rest is the Herald Sun). Places like where I grew up. Apologies are way too feminine. It would be the thin end of the wedge heel, and one step closer to a feminist dystopia.

Apology is one of the tenets of emotional intelligence, and so is the art of active listening. Active listening is listening in order to validate another person’s experience, rather than getting ready to counter it.

I’m better at apology, but I’m still learning active listening. I understand and appreciate what it is, but there’s a significant part of my personality that likes to jump in with advice. (Advice is not a good part of active listening, and it’s not great for effective helping, either, as it cannot help but imply that you know better.)

Another place I see the art of emotional intelligence, now, is in TV scripts.

(This post is riddled with spoilers from here on in. Watch first, but it’s still gonna be great if you don’t.)

The Bear is an American comedy-drama series created by Christopher Storer, written by Joanna Calo and Storer. Chef Carmy (Jeremy Allen White) leaves the best restaurant in the world (read: in America) after his brother, Mikey (cameo by Jon Bernthal), dies by suicide. Carmy will take over Mikey’s sandwich (read: burger) shop in Chicago. The restaurant is struggling. Carmy is struggling. Things get bad; things get better.

Watch The Bear if only for White, who is great.

But reason I’m writing about it is that these writers are among those who have raised the bar, recently, for what makes a character a ‘good guy.’ 

The difference is self-awareness, the ability to listen, and know how to apologise. It’s no coincidence that the main writer is a woman (some trope-y issues notwithstanding).

The antagonist in episode one is Richie (Ebon Moss-Bachrach), Mikey’s best friend, a loud guy who shoots a gun in the air to solve his problems and doesn’t regulate emotions (I mean, neither do I - but I’m a little closer to it than Richie). 

The kicker is that, in the second episode, Richie is being all Big Man in a big way. But things change gear. In one scene he is literally in a hardware store - the younger, smarter sous chef Sydney (Ayo Edebiri) - who drove him to the store because he’d lost his licence - refusing to ask anyone who works at the store for advice, and mouthing off about the staff at the sandwich shop after a scene in which everyone was fighting. Richie is aggressive, won’t shut up, and we want Sydney to kick him out of the car. (He even got the wrong caulk.) Sydney calmly suggests he calm down, while giving back almost as good as she gets. As they get back in the car, Richie over-talks her.

RICHIE

Take a breath before you start driving. Man or woman - I’m not discriminating - it’s dangerous to get behind the wheel while you’re hysterical.

SYDNEY puts up her hands and is about to react when RICHIE’S phone rings. It’s his ex-wife. 

Why the fuck does she keep calling?

RICHIE’S voice changes as he answers the call. It lowers and the tone becomes easier.

Hey, why do you keep calling me?

RICHIE pauses.

What’s going on with her?

There is a pause while RICHIE looks down. 

Is she crying again? 

RICHIE rubs his forehead. 

What did you say?

RICHIE pauses.

Well, I’d be crying too. She’s at a different school, these kids are a bunch of fuck-faces.

RICHIE lifts one hand out in a practiced manner, as if to calm his ex-wife.

Hold on. Hold on.

RICHIE pauses, his voice soft. 

Can I just talk to her please?

RICHIE pauses.

Hey sweetie. How are you doing? You’re not doing so good? What’s wrong?

RICHIE pauses. His lips move from side to side. 

Oh you’re scared?

RICHIE lowers his voice even more.

What are you scared about? 

RICHIE pauses. 

I get it.

RICHIE pauses.

But you know what? You’re going to do great. I promise.

RICHIE smiles.

But if you don’t, I’m going to give you $500. But you’re gonna do great. And I’m going to see you on Friday, right?

RICHIE breathes out.

Of course… how could you… of course I still love you. I love you so so much. I love you more and more every day if that’s possible. I just… no. I don’t need to talk to Mommy. But you know, call me after. Let me know how it went. I’m so proud of you, kiddo.

RICHIE looks like he might cry.

I love you.

The point of the scene seems to be to juxtapose his Big Man persona with the emotional connection with his daughter, and give his character the first glimpse of depth, one that develops as the season progresses. But it’s a scene I’ve seen the same side of before in real life, and it feels and sounds how an emotionally mature parent talks to their child. But the humanity is not the key thing for me.

It’s the focus on listening. On acknowledging and legitimising another person’s experience, and putting at the forefront another person’s need to feel the feelings and be heard. This is top-level listening and emotional intelligence - it’s the kind of thing that doesn’t come naturally, and the fact that this character is engaging in listening with his five-year-old daughter is more impressive. For most people it’s hard not to launch into advice when someone for whom they want to be a hero is in pain. I can see that it’s the same, but triple-fold, for your child.

The Bear leaves one trope un-extinguished, however. 

Carmy and his brother are extreme characters, affected by trauma and not dealing with anything, rather leaning in to their unhealthy coping mechanisms (including, for Mike, ultimately suicide) until their sister, Sugar (Abby Elliott), shows them the way. 

Sugar is emotionally mature, and encourages Carmy to go to an Al-Anon meeting to deal with his trauma (again and again) as a family member. She calls her brother and doesn’t get her calls returned, and ends up doing the sandwich shop’s tax return so that she doesn’t lose her house (she cosigned for a huge loan that their brother took out on the shop). She takes on the emotional baggage for the big personalities of her brothers. She knows the language of trauma and healing, but she’s doing the work and taking on the role of family fixer.

Being emotionally intelligent is not the crime here - it’s the emotional burden. It allows the other characters space to follow through, and meet her where she is. (In the meantime, Carmy has taken her advice and has gone to Al-Anon meetings, where he’s shared with the group.)

In this scene, Carmy and Sugar are cleaning up the office together, looking for the last files she needs to avoid bankruptcy.

CARMY 

(Calmly, breathing out his nose) Do you want to fight?

SUGAR 

Please.

CARMY

I know you’re mad at me.

SUGAR 

This is just irresponsible.

CARMY 

No, I mean at your house. All the stuff you said?

SUGAR 

I was annoyed.

CARMY 

Yeah, clearly.

SUGAR

Look, I think the thing that just pisses me off is the thing that I am too embarrassed to admit. Is that you never ask me how I’m doing. Like, ever. I know it’s childish, but that’s why I’m mad at you. I think. Plus, we never spend any real time together. This place is eating you alive, you know.

CARMY

You always blame this place.

SUGAR

What do you mean?

CARMY

I mean, you blame the restaurant. You don’t blame Mom, you don’t blame Mikey.

SUGAR

How could I not blame this place? I just cleaned up shot-out glass and now I’m covered in carbon. All of our time, money, work gets sucked up into this place. 

CARMY nods, holds his head in his hands.

The only thing we get back is chaos, resentment. It’s bullshit.

CARMY nods.

CARMY

Sounds like Mom.

SUGAR

Are you kidding? I’m serious.

CARMY

I’m serious.

SUGAR

I just want things to be calm. I just want things to be on solid ground. I want things to feel…

CARMY

Consistent. 

SUGAR

Yeah. Consistent.

CARMY

Yeah. That’s totally reasonable.

SUGAR

Well. I appreciate you saying that.

CARMY and SUGAR pause, absorbing what each other has said. 

CARMY

Um… I guess all the time I feel like I’m kind of trapped. (He wrings his hands.) Because I can’t describe how I’m feeling. (SUGAR nods.) So to ask someone else how they’re feeling just seems, uh. I don’t know, insane? (SUGAR nods, chuckles.) 

SUGAR

OK.

CARMY

I’m sorry, you know. You’re ah, you’re right, I want to know how you’re feeling. 

SUGAR nods. CARMY looks at her.

How are you feeling?

SUGAR

(Scoffs.) Really good. Just great. 

CARMY and SUGAR laugh. CARMY resumes looking through the office papers.

Carmy fucks up in the final problem, and has to apologise to Sydney, his sous chef and right-hand-woman. He sends his apology by text, after finding a recipe book she has left behind. 

Carmy No acid

Sydney ???

Carmy Your dish needs acid

Sydney So shove it up your ass

Carmy My behaviour was not OK

Sydney Correct

Carmy Yes chef. Last check is ready whenever.

Sources

Harvard Health apology

https://www.health.harvard.edu/blog/the-art-of-a-heartfelt-apology-2021041322366#:~:text=For%20an%20apology%20to%20be,caused%20the%20other%20person%20pain).

The Bear

Christopher Storer

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt14452776/

(The badly formatted script I took directly from the show, and may include many mistakes.)

Glennon Doyle, We Can Do Hard Things

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/we-can-do-hard-things-with-glennon-doyle/id1564530722

Watch The Bear in Australia on Disney+.