Tattle telling for adults: a how-not-to guide

SALT LAKE CITY — When I was a younger dad — a little more arrogant and a little less pudgy — a guy in my church group stopped me while I was gardening and told me that he didn’t want to offend, but he had some feedback for me.

“If you are interested,” he said. “It's about your daughter.”

Now, this kind of thing usually goes one of two ways, as any parent knows. That particular time, however, it went both.

As a dad, I usually try to consider the source when I get feedback, both solicited and “un.” If I have asked for the feedback, I try and keep my mouth shut and leave the excuse making for later. This usually goes for negative feedback.

This man from my neighborhood had a few stories to tell me about my girl. He ended by saying that his daughter was not comfortable around my daughter, and would probably not be seeing her socially — a pretty good bet since neither of them could drive at that point.

I continued to water my flowers and tried to be thankful and gracious for the information. My neighbor stood there like he was expecting a tip. I don’t know which of us was more uncomfortable.

I have not been known to act in a very enlightened way when I receive unsolicited feedback. In this instance, my first impulse was to tell him to put a cork in it concerning my daughter. It's completely irrational, utterly defensive, with ego on both sleeves. (I have the same response, by the way, when any referee calls my daughter for a strike or a personal foul. It makes me want to hire the hit brethren.)

This kind of thing has happened a time or two now, and I wonder what would have been the mature, religious guy, good-dad response. How should I behave in order to be a good neighbor and, more importantly, a good father?

My wife filled me in later on the established manners. According to her, a good dad:

1. Thanks the gentleman for his information,
2. Does nothing but store the information to share with his spouse later, and
3. Waits for a pattern to appear. If it does, then one meets with said daughter and takes it from there.

Then, one hires the hit brethren.

I only mention this experience to you so I can tell you about the next one — about me and the “tattle” being on the other “tale,” where I was the one offering unsolicited feedback.

I ratted a niece out.

The good news is that I have since learned how to deal with spray paint on interior vehicle upholstery. The bad news is that my brother and his wife aren’t speaking to me since I “casually blamed an innocent child without proof.” (My eyeballs don’t count.)

I have recently decided that there are very few reasons to become an informant. If there is blood or protruding bones, then giving information is considered first aid. If there is no bleeding or visible bone protrusion, my own experience tells me to sit on any information I think should be shared.

It is OK for me to wait a day or two to think things out before I pick up a phone.

I need to first ask myself: Why am I giving this feedback? What is my motivation? And when I am given feedback, is the informant saying that I am a bad parent or that I am an inferior parent? Is it a gene being calling into question, or my breeding? Of course not.

A leader in my church (and I count on church leaders to bring wisdom into a situation where I have little) told us that the spirit would guide us and even correct our actions if we try to listen to those promptings — the ones that some call “intuition” or “a gut feeling.” We may still make mistakes, but not major ones without being warned.

So unless I feel prompted or have a gut feeling, I wait a little to hear a warning and I try to keep my all important feedback to myself. I take that which I receive with a grain of salt.

If the feedback that is shared is given with the spirit present, with a little sensitivity, there still may be bad feelings for a short while, but the relationship will be reparable.

This is what I tell myself when I sit on my new, all-white van seat.

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Main image: "Why, no, Uncle Davison. I haven't seen a green wiffle ball." -And other stories I pretend to believe. (Photo: Davison Cheney)

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*Davison writes about things he is familiar with: things like raising children, taking children to therapy, bailing children out of trouble, and trying not to beat up parents of other children when they yell at his children for not getting the basketball to their children. Read more from Davison at davisoncheneymegadad.blogspot.com.**

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