Inspired by, of all things, an episode of Death in Paradise that had bullying as its core motive for murder, I feel inspired to reflect on some past incidents where I have encountered bullying. Because there have been quite a few, and, honestly, I'm not sure that many of them ever ended up being resolved in a particularly satisfactory manner. (I have not, to date, committed murder.)
This might be a long one, just to warn you. I haven't written it yet, so I don't know, but I have a feeling this might be a long one. You have been warned!
I have always been a somewhat awkward individual to varying degrees. In my middle age, I now know this to be an autistic spectrum disorder, of course, but growing up (and onwards into young adulthood) I never really sort of felt like I quite fit in.
In primary school, I somehow attracted the attention of several bullies. I don't recall doing anything in particular to rouse their ire initially; I guess I was just seen as an easy target. The kid with the unfashionable hair and the big ears and the posh-sounding voice.
This started early on. Kids from the upper end of the school would pick on me, a kid considerably younger than them, mercilessly. I would be taunted for my ears, I would be insulted, I would even be beaten up. Occasionally I would lash out, and inevitably get in trouble for doing so. On multiple occasions, I recall my frustration at the sheer injustice of it all being such that I ended up deliberately provoking the bullies in question so they would do something they shouldn't have, and I would do my best to ensure it was within eyeshot of a dinner lady. But, again, I don't think anything substantial ever really got done about it.
Oh, sure, the bullies might have been put in "the yellow book" once or twice (our headmaster thought it was cute that people getting in trouble could get put in "the yellow book" or "the red book" according to the severity of the transgression, using football's yellow and red cards as an analogy) but they suffered no lasting consequences for their actions and demonstrated no remorse whatsoever.
What's worse about being bullied at school is when some people see you getting bullied, they decide to side with the bully — whether just for a quiet life or because they genuinely wanted to be seen as one of the "cool kids" — and that, on more than one occasion, included people that were supposedly my friends. On multiple occasions, I fell out with these supposed friends because they had decided to pick on me, not in that sort of silly, lighthearted way you do with your friends, but in the same way as the bullies. It really sucked, but pretty much every time I eventually forgave them, for ours was a Christian school, and forgiveness was What You Did.
As I progressed up the school and my former tormentors left, I still wasn't free. Some days people that I otherwise got along perfectly fine with would just turn on me, and I'd be left with nowhere to go, full of anger and frustration at a world that just wasn't fair. I was doing well academically — probably one reason the bullies decided to pick on me, as shameful as that might sound — so it was upsetting and frustrating that I couldn't just enjoy school. What made things worse is that there were other people in the same "top groups" for various subjects at me, and they never suffered like I did; they were "in" with the "cool kids" and thus never had to contend with this.
When I arrived at secondary school, I hoped that it would be a fresh start. And it was, to a degree. On my first day, I was sat next to a kid named Murray, who I didn't know because he had come from a different primary school. I turned around to my friend Matthew and said, with some genuine anguish, "I can't remember how to make friends," but he just shrugged and continued getting along with the person he had been sat with. I attempted to make small talk with Murray, but it didn't really go anywhere.
Some time later, Murray decided that I would be a suitable target for bullying, and he took to insulting me and physically abusing me to varying degrees. It was relentless, and all too familiar to me — and this time, it was coming from a member of my peer group, and thus someone I couldn't easily escape from.
I cracked one day. After he'd been flicking rubber bands at me all morning, I turned around, grabbed him by his collar and thumped him really hard in the face. Unfortunately, the moment I had picked to do this was exactly as our headmaster was walking around the corner, and he saw everything.
To the credit of the school's senior staff (and my parents, when they were informed), they agreed that I had been pushed too far by Murray's behaviour, and they understood why I had lashed out, but they also made it clear that what I had done in response was also unacceptable. My secondary school wasn't a Christian school like my primary school, but it still very much held the attitude that the "correct" way to respond to a bully was to "just say 'no' to them". Like that helps when you're being beaten up.
As a result, I ended up put on "report", which meant that for a week, during lunchtimes and breaktimes, I had to report to a member of staff every five minutes and get a sheet of paper signed. As a deterrent for doing anything stupid, it was certainly effective, but it was also mortifyingly embarrassing. I recall bursting into tears in the dining hall, surrounded by my bewildered friends, at the frustration of the situation. Because it was frustrating, but in that instance, I, at least, knew that Murray had suffered a harsher punishment than I had. I believe he was suspended for a short period; he may even have ended up expelled at some point, because I actually don't remember running into him again beyond year 7 — though that may just be the haziness of the distant past talking.
At secondary school, I once again suffered those occasions when people would inexplicably turn on me without provocation. I absolutely was not a cool kid as a teenager; I had terrible hair (and no understanding of how to make it not-terrible, a trait I maintain to this day and primarily avert by shaving my head), I had teenage zits, I probably smelled bad, and I wasn't into anything cool like football. I understood early on that cliques formed, and I was fortunate enough to find myself in a little clique of my own, and those friends mostly stuck by me for the majority of secondary school. But there were still days when, for one reason or another, they'd decide to play up at my expense.
I think my least favourite incident in this regard was the time when, on attending the local county concert band, as I did on a weekly basis, I overheard a girl I thought I got along well with (and rather fancied, truth be told) talking to her compatriot from another school on Second Clarinet. She was being less than complimentary about someone, but the conversation sounded amusing and fun. So I asked her about it during the break in the rehearsal. She laughed it off and said nothing, and I knew immediately that it was about me. I don't know if she intended me to overhear, but I never quite felt the same about her after that.
On one particularly memorable occasion, a fight was organised between me and another kid also named Peter; I had no particular beef with him, so this fight being organised was more baffling to me than anything. I suspect it was the kids responsible wanting to feel like they had "power" over people, like they could make them do anything. I hope they were severely disappointed when neither of the two Peters turned up to the supposed fight time and place.
As I progressed through secondary school, bullying became less and less common, and completely non-existent by the time I reached sixth form, which is one of many reasons I look back on that period as one of the best times of my life. It was bliss to be in an environment where I could thrive, surrounded by people I got along with and liked, and not bothered by people who, for whatever twisted reason they had justified in their mind, wished me ill.
I was fortunate enough to not encounter any bullying during my time at university, either. I had a good group of friends who were very supportive, and we were a close-knit group that did a lot together. That staved off any interference from anyone who might wish any of us harm — we had one another's backs if it came down to it, but it never did, thankfully.
When I finally left university as a qualified teacher, I once again encountered bullying — not just as a teacher tasked with resolving such incidents in his class, but also as a member of staff. I felt ostracised and unwelcome among much of the staff of one of the schools I taught at, including my own head of department, and felt very unsupported. It was this, among other things, that contributed to my having a nervous breakdown on the job; I will forever be grateful to the few teachers on that staff who would give me the time of day, and who were supportive, both during that particular episode and when I just needed a good rant come 3.30 in the afternoon — the head of the English department and the head of Drama in particular.
And that wasn't the end of it. When I worked in retail, I had what appeared to be a dream job for quite some time, progressing through the positions it was possible to have at the store, and learning a lot in the process. Then one day, I learned that one of my colleagues and friends was being mistreated quite badly by management; I agreed to act as a witness in some frankly unwarranted disciplinary proceedings he was suffering, but managed to end up with a target painted on my back as a result. I ended up bullied out of that job, even going so far as to bring official grievance proceedings against the managers responsible — but of course, that went nowhere.
Management closed ranks and completely ostracised me from thereon, so I wrote them a six-page resignation letter than explained exactly why I was leaving. To my great satisfaction, this letter caused the entire management team to lock themselves in a meeting for an entire day. It didn't help my career — I had already committed to leaving, anyway, but it sure felt good.
The penultimate incident that happened is one that still genuinely causes me traumatic flashbacks to this day — and I will name and shame the company in this instance. SSE, the energy company, by far the worst place I have ever had the misfortune to work, and that includes three failing schools.
SSE's corporate culture is to obsess about safety. And I'm not joking. This is a company where you get told off and written up if you're seen not holding a handrail going up stairs; where you get a stern warning from your manager if you drop a pen under your desk and don't wear a "bump cap" to retrieve it; where the obsession with Safety is an active detriment to productivity.
My problems there actually didn't stem from this side of things at all, surprisingly; it stemmed from my team leader and her team leader, both of whom one day apparently decided to take a dislike to me. I had been working well as someone who helped keep SSE's poorly organised website up to date, and I had even led up a project to completely refresh M&S Energy's website, since that was actually part of SSE. I was a productive member of the team, and, up until this point, I had thought I was getting along with everyone.
One day, I was pulled aside by these two individuals and presented with a letter saying that I was to face disciplinary action for looking at my mobile phone too often during work hours. This was back when I was big into Twitter, and thus my phone was something of a lifeline for communicating with far-off friends, particularly since the friends I saw in person on a semi-regular basis were already starting to become… less regular sights.
Also, I didn't really feel like it would be a problem, since not only was I completing all the work that had been assigned to me in a timely manner and to an excellent standard, all the other members of my team — including the one accusing me now — were on their phones all day every day, and I even caught one of them writing a fucking novel on her computer when she was supposed to be working.
Apparently, because I was still technically on my probation period, they decided to treat this complete non-issue with the severity of if I'd just fucked the photocopier and made the CEO watch or something. I was given notice of a disciplinary meeting whose outcome was clearly decided in advance, and given the opportunity to plead my case. I did so. I was fired, and because I was still on my probation period, that was that, then and there. It was abundantly clear that I had just been bullied out of a second job for no discernible reason other than two people had inexplicably decided to take issue with me. Maybe I made them look bad by getting work done more quickly and better than them. To this day, I genuinely have no idea; I just know that I hate those two individuals.
I yelled obscenities at the gathered group around the table, because I figured if I was never going to see them again, I might as well. I was fucking furious. And I still am, every time I think about this scenario. During particularly low ebbs of mental health, I find myself back in that room, surrounded by people who inexplicably hate me for no reason, and I want nothing more than to lash out more than I actually did. Flip the table. Fling a phone at someone. Beat someone with their folder of "evidence" (which, aside, was remarkably empty-looking). Go much further than yelling "fuck you" and storming out of the room, slamming the door so hard a picture fell off the wall.
That side of me scares me a bit, to be perfectly honest. It scares me that my mind conjures up such images — and it scares me that every time I feel like I've been pushed to feeling like that, it's because I've been bullied; it's been a situation that has been beyond my control.
There is a more recent example, too, that relates to my time at USgamer, and honestly I've always been hesitant to talk about it in specifics for a whole manner of reasons, but suffice to say that, too, was a very obvious instance of bullying. More than ten years later, I am still furious with the person responsible, and how they have never, ever seen any consequences for their actions — and likely never will. The most I can do is never, ever buy a book with his name on — and perhaps punch him in the balls if I am ever unfortunate enough to be in a room with him.
And this is to say nothing of the numerous minor incidents I have encountered over the years where a complete stranger will insult me and threaten me because of the way I look, and my weight. All of those are bullying, too. The most recent of those was just a couple of weeks ago.
As I say, the most frustrating thing about bullying is that, more often than not, there is no closure. There is no justice. And, if you've ever been a victim of it, that really sucks — because all you can do is pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and hope it never happens again. That this last incident, finally, will really be the last time you have to suffer.
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