A Retired Reactive
Freshman year of high school volleyball, second set, 17-17. Our only real competition all season. The gym was packed and loud in the way gyms only get when everyone in the room can feel a match slipping in one direction. We were on the wrong end of a five point run, and I was hoping for a timeout to save us.
My coach finally called it. I got into the huddle antsy, ready for a play, a read… something to actually stop the beating the other team was giving us.
“Their outside hitter always hits cross.”
That was it. That was the strategy.
I was instantly pissed. No shit she hits cross, she’d been doing it the entire game. What else were we supposed to do about it right now? So the first thing out of my mouth, dripping in sarcasm, was: “OMG. No way. Really?”
His face went neutral. He kept talking. I didn’t hear a word of it because I was too busy being mad at the situation. From a young age, I was ultra competitive. We broke the huddle, walked back onto the court, and the ref whistled for a sub. I sat the bench for the next five points.
He told me to stop being such an asshole. He was right.
I was trying to get to the point. What he needed from me was to listen and to lead by example.
This is a common example of where wittiness isn’t necessarily wrong.The wittiness isn’t the problem. It’s knowing where to aim it and the timing of it to make it land.
I come by it honestly. My dad’s side of the family is funny in the fast, sharp, say-it-before-you-think-about-it way. The second anyone gets a boyfriend or girlfriend, it’s open season. My uncle once gave my little sister an empty frame for Christmas that just said LOVE with a heart on it because she’d gotten her first boyfriend in eighth grade. She was mortified. We were all howling.
There’s a running joke that I have zero patience, so I just take over and do things myself. Whenever I’m visibly trying to be patient about something, someone will say “oh, look at you being so patient” and everyone laughs, including me. It’s not a dig. It’s my family looking at exactly what I need to work on and telling me they love me anyway.
Some people outside the family have taken that literally over the years. Heard the joke, missed the love underneath it, and walked away thinking we don’t actually like each other. Which, fair, if you don’t have the context. When sarcasm is aimed in the right direction, with the intention to connect with someone and make them feel seen, it stops being an insult. It becomes proof that someone paid close enough attention to know exactly where to land the joke.
So no, the wit isn’t the enemy. My aim is.
Case in point, more recently and much lower stakes: I was at a coffee shop with my sister and a friend. We got our coffees, checked the patio, no open seats. I said, “let’s go to the front.”
My sister asked if there was seating up there.
“No,” I said. “Why else would I say let’s go to the front and sit down if there wasn’t seating up there.” (Truly a masterclass in tone.)
She just said, “oh, okay.” A beat of silence. Then we moved on to whatever we were talking about before.
Nobody got benched for that one. But it’s the same reflex, just with lower stakes. I wasn’t nervous, there was no adrenaline, no rival on a run. I was just talking to one of the closest people to me and I stopped bothering to think before I opened my mouth. I don’t get sloppy with strangers. I get sloppy with the people who’d forgive me for it.
Where I’ve actually gotten better is work. I run meetings and trainings, and there’s always a moment where someone asks a question about something I just explained. Not because they’re not smart, they’re just not always tracking the same thread I am. My old instinct is the same one from that huddle: a fast, sarcastic clapback that gets me nowhere except feeling superior for four seconds.
Now I catch it. I take a second, actually think about where they’re coming from, and answer it in a way that means I won’t have to answer it again. Nine times out of ten they just say “oh, okay” and we move on. Same two words as the coffee shop. Just this time I actually thought about them before I said anything.
Wit and sarcasm, aimed well, are a real form of emotional intelligence. You’re reading a room fast enough to catch a callback, a reference, a moment, and turning it into something that makes someone laugh. That’s a skill. I used to think of mine as a release valve, something I pulled when I was frustrated or wanted the last word. These days I’d rather use it to make someone feel seen than to win whatever argument I’m annoyed about in the moment.
I’m not trying to retire the wit. I like it too much, and honestly, it’s one of my favorite things about my family. I’m just done letting it fire before I’ve decided who deserves it.
♡ Syd