“I’m calling just to tell you that I hate you and think you’re horrible.”

“I’m calling just to tell you that I hate you and think you’re horrible.”

Naturally, I tend to have a short memory when it comes to mean-spirited remarks, as I know they often stem from a dark place. Still, every now and then, this comment comes back to me.

I was young then, 24 years old, hosting my own morning radio show, navigating uncharted waters.

Passionate, creative, ambitious, and relatively untested. I hadn’t really faced scrutiny yet, even though my job was on full display.

Of course, I knew not everyone liked me or my personality, but it never crossed my mind that someone might hate me.

I never had a “persona.” I wasn’t polarizing or egotistical. I never craved attention. I just loved making people laugh or feel good. Always have, since I was a kid, and still do.

My goal was simple. Have fun, be educated on the topics I covered, especially the musical artists, and deliver a show that was light-hearted but informative.

I came up with games, tried to spark laughter, and while not every bit landed, many of them did.

Then one morning, after 7:00, a call came through.

“CHOK, Chris speaking. How can I help you?”

“Chris?”

“You’re speaking to him.”

“Yeah, well, I’m calling just to tell you that I hate you and think you’re horrible.”

I froze. “Did I say or do something to deserve this?”

A quick reflection told me, no. I wasn’t the type to say something outlandish or reckless. Sure, I’ve met people who didn’t like me, but never had anyone flat-out tell me they hated me.

The easy response would have been to hang up, laugh it off, or toss an insult back. But for some reason, I didn’t.

Instead, I paused and said, “Well, first of all, thanks for listening.”

It disarmed them completely. And trust me, this wasn’t some masterstroke of wisdom. I didn’t know what I was doing, I just went with my gut.

“I’m sorry to hear you’re not a fan of mine. I don’t know your name, but I’m curious… why not?”

They didn’t expect that. They thought I’d be combative.

“Well, it doesn’t matter what my name is. Just wanted you to know that.”

“Fair enough. That’s duly noted. I hope you enjoy the rest of the show.”

Silence.

Then I hung up.

I think about this moment not because it’s a textbook example of how to handle criticism, or that I somehow nailed it, but because, in a moment where I could have lashed out, I chose not to. I thanked them.

Looking back, with more patience and life experience under my belt, I’d probably still handle it the same way.

I could have turned it into a comedy bit, but I didn’t because I didn’t know what kind of day, week, or life that man was living. Maybe I was just the easy target.

So, even when you’re pressed up against the wall, try presenting the best version of yourself.

At best, they will be disarmed.
At worst, they will reveal exactly who they are.

📸 The embarrassing photo of me dressed as a knight is from Halloween in 2010.