When I was 18, I did some personal training. During my certification test, the cert group had to move us to a different building across the city.
One of the guys needed a ride because a friend had dropped him off. He was jacked. I mean, a really really big dude. He was my height but weighed about 190 pounds. I remember feeling pretty good about myself when he asked if I used steroids based on my squat numbers (which were relatively high, but not absolutely high).
Anyhow, I knew how to get to the other location, but it was on the opposite side of San Antonio, so I drove through town rather than getting on the loop because it was a straight shot.
They guy started thinking I went the wrong way and began to yell at me. He also started punching my dashboard telling me to turn around or he was going to kick my ass.
I had been doing martial arts for a couple of years by this point and I’d beaten larger men in bjj matches, but I’d never been in a real fight against a guy that big with morals turned off.
I was trying to figure out what to do, so I told the guy that it didn’t matter how big he was he had two options:
- Get beaten into the pavement and left on the side of the road.
- Shut up and go finish his certification exam.
The reason I offered the concession in option two was that I knew that unless I used a weapon, I couldn’t win but the bluff seemed pretty serious.
He chose option 2 and as we pulled up to the test site, he apologized.
I would have done two things differently now:
- Not offered the guy a ride.
- If somehow, I had given him a ride, I would have made him get out of the truck.
There’s no moral to this story, I just suddenly remembered this event that I probably hadn’t ever told anybody about outside of a small circle of friends and my karate instructor.
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