Walk the talk
Quick question: When you want to ruin your day at the touch of a button (or a device’s display monitor), where do you go? If you answered, “The comments section of any website,” you would be 90 percent correct. It astounds me to no end how much bolder and more obnoxious people get when they are hidden behind keyboards and keypads. It’s a bit disheartening because (on social media, at least) these are the ones who claim to rep #pinoypride but can’t even engage in a level-headed conversation with others who don’t share the same views. This goes for both sides of the equation, obviously; whether you are “leftist” or “rightist,” being able to calmly face the other side without devolving to a flame war should be a minimum requirement prior to owning a social media account.
It all comes from a place of good intentions: we all want to positively impact and change our immediate areas. The problem arises when our talk (whether actual or virtual) does not correspond with our walk. We talk of tax reforms but stay silent when the cashier gives us extra change for our transaction. We talk of wanting to ease Cebu traffic but are at the forefront when it comes to jaywalking and inserting at wrong lanes. Finally, we talk of how our government can do better in taking care of its constituents but are the first ones to yell and verbally abuse our helpers when they mess up. This isn’t me trying to rain holy judgment on anyone—I’m guilty of these things myself (more than I’d like to admit)—which is why I’m trying to practice what one author calls the rule of “skin in the game.” This means that I only listen to people when they have incurred risk (monetary or otherwise) by being involved in achieving a goal that I am inclined to. In layman’s terms, it’s walking my talk.
I cannot talk about giving to others if I am miserly. I cannot talk about hard work if I am routinely late. It involves risk because we are holding ourselves to higher standards before we demand them of others. Is there a chance we fall short? Certainly. My late grandfather used to take me to a fast food joint after Sunday school for my usual order of fries. I tell people that my most unshakeable memory of these trips is when my lolo lost his cool and berated a fast food worker like it was nobody’s business (the first time I had seen anybody do so). Did it diminish my respect for him? Absolutely not—one instance does not define anyone’s entire life. That memory sticks because it reassures me that as long as I hold to my standards as much as I can, people will not hold slip-ups against me—consistency , not perfection.
Before we speak, we must show. Let’s not feed the trolls anymore; may our actions speak louder than their words.