Many people consider themselves ‘non-confrontational’, but there is no consensus to what that word means. For some it means not arguing back when someone tries to quarrel with you. For others it means looking for sneaky ways to get back at someone without having to face them directly. And then there are those for whom it means being so meek they won’t even correct a waiter when they serve them the wrong order.

I don’t know how many people think it means they literally avoid 100% of all confrontations. That would be nearly impossible. Even if you didn’t go looking for trouble, there will always be people ready to start a fight at the slightest provocation.

It would be hard to argue that I was looking for any kind of fight while I was sitting in my apartment, eating my breakfast of dry cereal (as I had forgotten to buy milk again) and debating whether I wanted to catch up on the latest shows in the superhero genre or continue playing the roleplaying game I had started the night before. It’d been a week since I took on the ‘job’ of apartment manager, and as far as I was aware, there hadn’t been anything for me to do since that first day. Of course, I was missing something important – which I would be reminded of. In dramatic fashion.

When I heard the knock on my door, I assumed it was Derek, since he was the only person who ever came to my apartment. Besides food delivery, anyway, but I hadn’t ordered anything that morning. Instead, I was met with a rotund young man wearing a t-shirt depicting a scantily-clad anime girl. His pasty skin led me to believe he somehow got even less sunlight than I did, which was an achievement.

“Hey, sorry to bother you, are you Kit? The new apartment manager?” the stranger asked.

I stepped outside so I could close the front door and not display the state my apartment was in. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“I’m Vincent. I live downstairs in 1D. We’re having a problem – “

Before he could voice the issue, another man’s voice boomed, “That him, Vincent?”

Vincent winced. “I was just about to tell him the issue, Tommy.”

The man who stepped up behind Vincent was almost a full foot taller than I was and had a body that seemed to be all-muscle. He looked less like a flesh-and-blood person and more like a statue chiseled out of marble that represented the ideal of the warrior body. He had the intimidating warrior’s presence to go with it. I felt myself instinctively drawing away from him.

Which did me little good because as soon as Tommy reached me, he grabbed me by the shirt color and pulled me towards him.

“You think this is funny, huh?” Tommy growled. “Making me come up here like this? Or did you think I wouldn’t have the nerve? Were you sitting up here on your throne, laughing about how I was so pathetic that I would just lay down and take it?”

“Throne?” was for some reason my only response.

“He’s upset because our calls to you haven’t been going through,” Vincent explained as he nervously looked between me and his companion. “Derek told us you were the apartment manager now and all repair requests need to go through you, but whenever we call you we don’t get an answer.”

“Oh. I forgot to turn my phone back on,” I very smartly said out loud as I realized my mistake. “I guess I should probably do that.”

This understandably made Tommy angrier. “So, you do think this is funny? I told you, Vincent. This is all a joke to him. He turned off his phone just so he could mock us to our faces when we came to beg for maintenance. Well, you laughing now, funny guy?” His face was so close to mine I could feel the heat from his breath.

My personal definition of ‘non-confrontational’ is that when someone is angry with me, I agree with whatever they say. Even when they were wrong. It doesn’t matter if it was my parents blaming me for something my sister did or my boss chewing me out for an issue caused by our suppliers. When someone started to raise their voice at me, I would agree without thinking.

And because of that, I ended up saying, “Yes, I’m laughing.”

It was only after the words escaped my mouth that I realized how bad an idea they were.

I desperately tried to correct myself. “Wait, I didn’t mean – “

Tommy pushed me against my door, then stepped back and raised his fists. “That’s it, I’m kicking your ass! Get ready for it!”

It probably comes as no surprise that I’ve never been in a real fight, so unless real fights worked by inputting combos like in Street Fighter, I was pretty screwed here. I quickly went through my options.

I couldn’t retreat back into my apartment. The door opened out, and there wasn’t enough space between me and it to get it open. Even if I could somehow force it open enough for me to squeeze through, the big guy could just grab me again before I made it inside. Worse case, he might even follow me inside and trash my apartment while he was at it.

Escaping downstairs didn’t seem a likely option, either. The giant was between me and the stairs. I suppose I could try and leap over the railing, but even if I made it over the hard concrete below wasn’t going to be welcoming.

I could try to fight back. Or, at the very least, try to get my arms in some kind of position to protect the vital parts of my head and body. That’s what a normal person would do in my position, I suppose. But was there really much of a benefit to that?

There was no way I was going to win a fight against Goliath. And his rage was unlikely to be satiated until he got a few good shots on me. And if I blocked any of his hits, he might not count them. Defending myself seemed like a lot of effort for no gain. Maybe if I did nothing, he would grow bored after a few punches. As long as I didn’t get beaten so badly that I needed a trip to the hospital, I could get this over with quickly and move on with my day.

This conclusion led me to my second rule of living life after giving up: Just let it happen.

I leaned back against my door, relaxed my body, and waited for the inevitable assault.

My apparent nonchalance in the face of his aggression caused Tommy to hesitate. “I’m really going to do it, you know?” he insisted. “I’m going to leave you black and blue!”

“Alright,” I said with a shrug.

This response only confused him more. His fists wavered.

“Dude, be careful!” Vincent called out. “This guy’s completely relaxed before a fight. We’ve both seen enough kung-fu movies to know what that means – this guys an absolute martial arts master! He’s just waiting for you to throw the first punch so he has an excuse to defend himself!”

Tommy looked to his companion, then back to me. “There’s no way this pudgy guy is actually a martial artist, right?” There was uncertainty in his voice.

“Uh, yeah, I’m a master of bull-shitto,” I replied. I wish I had come up with a more realistic sounding name instead of going with a pun, but it was all that came to my mind.

Fortunately, Tommy misheard me and did my job for me. “Bo-shinto? What is that? I’ve never heard of it.”

“Dude, I know that one!” Vincent exclaimed. “It was in a video I saw of ‘The Top Ten Most Lethal Martial Arts!’ It wasn’t number one, but I think it was pretty high on the list!”

“Lethal?” Tommy repeated. He was even more uncertain now. His fists were still raised, but they were visibly trembling.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

I made a show of looking at the back of my hand to prove how unthreatened I was.

Tommy dropped to his knees and put his hands together in the universal sign for begging. “Please, don’t kill me! I’m not really a fighter! I’m an actor! These are all show muscles! I just wanted to threaten you a little because I was mad you wouldn’t answer our calls! I’m sorry!”

An actor? He certainly had me fooled. Though I guess I was the more talented actor that day.

“It’s fine,” I said. “Just don’t it again.”

“I won’t. Thank you!” Tommy sighed in relief.

“Thank you for sparing him, sensei,” Vincent added.

Sensei? I wasn’t a huge fan of where that was going.

“So, what was this maintenance issue that had you so riled up?” I asked, figuring I ought to do my job as manager before Derek found out about my unintentional slip-up.

Tommy rubbed his hands, nervously. “It’s nothing major. Just … you know … one of our pipes is leaking and water’s getting all over the place.”

“That’s really major!” I sighed, remembering that Derek told me to confirm all issues before calling the handyman. “Alright, show me.”

I followed them downstairs to their unit. The left and right sides of their main room were decorated completely differently, all the way down to the colors the walls were painted. It reminded me of one of those sitcoms where an arguing couple splits a house in half down the middle. The right side was covered in bright colors, posters of anime characters (particularly women), and shelves of figurines. The left side was darker and more subdued by comparison, with its primary décor being framed posters for famous movies. It was pretty easy to guess which side belonged to who.

The problem was in the kitchen. A pipe under the sink had sprouted a small leak that was sprinkling a light but constant stream onto the floor. Vincent and Tommy had set down barriers to keep the water from flowing into the rest of the apartment. Though the flow was minor, the area they had sectioned off already had an ankle-deep level of water within. Evidence of how long the leak had been going. I felt a tang of guilt at the part of that which was my fault.

I could at least prevent the problem from getting any worse. About a year ago my kitchen sink had sprung a similar leak, which I guess proved a level of consistency in the construction. Derek had come by right away to turn the water off, and I had paid attention to where the valve was in case it happened again. I waded through the indoor pond, reached into the cabinet beneath the sink, and turned the valve – which was hidden in a compartment you had to reach up into.

“Oh, that’s where that was,” Tommy remarked. “We were looking for it but couldn’t find it.”

“He totally sensed it with his chi!” Vincent declared. “Did you see that? He went right for it without even having to look!”

“Incredible.”

There didn’t seem to be a point in correcting them. Focus on fixing this problem, then hope this whole martial-arts thing didn’t get brought up again.

“Can I borrow one of your phones?” I asked.

Vincent quickly pulled a phone from his pocket and tossed it towards me. I was barely able to catch it. It felt horribly irresponsible to throw such an expensive, fragile device, until I remembered I was supposed to be some kind of warrior with incredible reflexes. If I had dropped it, that would have been embarrassing.

I pulled the slip of paper Derek had given me out of my wallet and dialed the number.

The voice of the man that picked up sounded like he was speaking with a mouth full of gravel. “Boji’s. What do you want?”

“Hey. Are you the handyman?”

“What?”

“The handyman? Derek said I should call you. I am his new apartment manager.”

“Speak up, son. Don’t whisper into the phone.”

I didn’t think I was speaking softly, but I tried again a bit louder. “I’m Derek’s new apartment manager. We need someone to come look at a leaking pipe in unit 1D.”

“Pipe? No, sorry, I don’t smoke.”

“No, I need someone to fix a pipe!” I was really starting to raise my voice now. “I need the handyman!”

“Fix a pipe? Why didn’t you say so. Don’t beat around the bush so much, son. We don’t all have so much time to waste.”

We went back and forth like this for a while, with me having to repeat every sentence louder until I was practically screaming into the phone. But eventually I was able to give the details of the problem and get a confirmation that someone would be coming to fix it.

“He’ll be here in two hours,” I told Vincent as I handed his phone back to him. My voice was starting to sound raspy from all the yelling. “He’s going to bring a pump to drain all this water as well.”

With my role fulfilled, I was hoping to quickly excuse myself and return to my own apartment before anything else happened. Before I could leave Tommy stopped me.

He bowed to me. “Please, sensei! Teach me to be tough like you!”

“Huh?”

There was a desperation in his eyes. “Wait here for a second.”

Tommy ran off into one of the bedrooms. Vincent gave me an apologetic look.

“Sorry about this, sensei,” Vincent said. “He’s very passionate. Just hear him out for a second, alright?”

“I guess,” I replied, though I was less than enthused. What did I know about being tough?

Tommy returned a moment later carrying a picture, which he handed to me.

“This is me a year ago,” he explained.

The man in the picture barely resembled the one standing in front of me now. If his current form was made of marble, his past self was molded from bubble gum, stretched way too tight. Still tall, but thin and wiry the whole way through.

“Damn, you got this big in only a year?” I remarked.

“I did. See, a year ago, a friend of mine – a writer – told me that he had just sold the movie rights to one of his novels to a small studio. He said they would have about a year’s worth of pre-production tasks while they got scripts and the like ready before they got to casting, but when that came around, he’d be happy to put in a word for me. He knows I’ve been waiting for my big break. Only problem is, the characters in his script were all warrior-types. So, I spent the last year working on my body to get it into this shape.”

“It’s a remarkable transformation,” I admitted. “That must have been extremely difficult.”

For the first time since I had taken on my new life philosophy, I felt myself wavering. Here in front of me was evidence that if you worked hard towards something, you could achieve results. Had I been wrong to conclude that all effort was meaningless?

“Yep, it sure was tough,” Tommy agreed. “A special diet. Hitting the gym every day. Frequent sessions with a personal trainer. Steroids. And some meditational yoga to keep myself focused.”

I was quiet a moment, trying to figure out if I had heard what I thought I had heard. “What was that second to last one?”

“The personal trainer?”

“No, after that.”

“Steroids? Oh, they’re great. My trainer gave them to me when I told him what my goals were. Really gave me the kick I needed to power through.”

I had not misheard. There was a sense of relief as I realized his goal had been achieved through cheating more than hard work.

“But while my body fit the role of a warrior, my mind did not,” Tommy continued. “I was rehearsing for my audition every day, but I could never portray myself believably as, you know, a tough guy who gets into a lot of fights. And it was making me so angry. Again, I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier. But my failure to act in this role was getting me more furious by the day, and it just finally bubbled over. I wanted to show someone how tough I could be! Though you saw right through me, of course.”

He wasn’t giving himself enough credit, in my opinion. I had fallen for his act completely.

“Now the audition has been scheduled and I only have a couple weeks left to prepare. And I’m still not ready!” Tommy exclaimed. “All this anger is making it impossible for me to even get in the right headspace. I’m not even sure if I’ll be clear-headed enough to remember my lines at this rate! But maybe, if you could teach me how to act tough – like you – I’ll be able to calm down enough to nail this audition.”

“It would be nice if you chilled out enough to stop breaking things,” Vincent added. “I’ve been worried you were going to run out of your own things to break soon and start coming after mine. One hair on my figurines gets harmed, and you’ll be looking for another roommate.”

It sounded like roid-rage to me. I’d had a co-worker in the stockroom that abused the stuff who had been similarly prone to aggressive outbursts. Until the day he lifted Steve above his head and locked him inside one of the ceiling-mounted displays. It took four officers to escort him off the property.

“Are you sure it’s the acting that’s making you so angry?” I asked. “And not the steroids?”

Tommy’s face scrunched up in thought before suddenly lighting up in realization. “Hold on, I understand what you’re getting at. You’re saying I’m not angry at my acting, I’m angry at myself for using a shortcut like steroids to get my body in shape. Deep down, I know a true warrior doesn’t rely on such crutches, and by doing so I have been denying myself the warrior’s spirit I need for my role. It’s my disappointment in myself that has enraged me so. Well, no more! I’ll cut out the steroids and rely on just good-old fashioned diet and exercise to maintain this from here on out!”

“Wow, you’re so wise, sensei,” Vincent chimed in. “I can’t believe you were able to figure out the source of his inner turmoil just by talking with him for a few minutes.”

“That’s not what I …” I started to say before deciding to let it go. Like a child who had used the wrong formula on a math test and still gotten the right answer, Tommy had somehow wound up in the right place. Better to just leave it at that.

“I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me today, sensei,” Tommy declared. “If you ever need anything at all, you just let me know.”

“Or if you ever just want to hang out sometime and tell us some more cool martial-arts wisdom, I’d be down for that, too,” Vincent added.

“Uh, yeah, thanks. I’ll think about it.” Though I was actually hoping my only interactions with them going forward was going to be collecting rent. “Anyway, I got, uh, meditation and stuff to do for the rest of the day. I trust you guys can handle things when the handyman gets here?”

“Of course,” Vincent eagerly replied. “We’ll see you aren’t disturbed. See you around, sensei.”

Tommy bowed again. “Goodbye, sensei!”

I quickly hurried out before they could ask me for lessons in bo-shinto. Whatever that was.

As I made my way back to my sanctuary, I hoped there weren’t many problems like this one that had built up in the week the tenants couldn’t get in touch with me. I really needed to get my service reconnected.

Tomorrow. I think I’d dealt with enough for the day.