The Likeability Factor

courtesy http://www.theworldofhillaryclinton.com/p/memes_10.html#.UeXrPeB3fEM

courtesy http://www.theworldofhillaryclinton.com/p/memes_10.html#.UeXrPeB3fEM

I’m not running for president, so why do I care if you like me?

I’ve spent an inordinate part of my adult life–not to mention my childhood and teenage years–worrying about whether people like me. And I’m not talking about my family and my friends, I know they like me, otherwise they’d never put up with my shameless mining of our relationships for column material.

I worry more about complete strangers liking me than the people who really matter. Did I cut that guy off when I pulled out of the driveway, or was he going way too fast in a 25 mile per hour zone? Either way, he honked at me, with an irritated honk, which means he–gasp, sputter, take a deep consoling breath–doesn’t like me. This kind of thing drives me crazy: both the fact that some stranger doesn’t like me and the fact that I actually care.

And yet I do care, I can’t help myself.

This kind of thing happens to me all the time. I’ll be incredibly annoyed at the woman in front of me at the grocery store who insists on subtotaling her order, then paying for half with cash and half with a credit card that takes forever to authorize. I’m always in a hurry and for those five minutes when I stand in that line that takes an extra five minutes more than I thought it would, l loathe that woman in front of me in line with a level of hatred that I usually reserve for Nazi war criminals and people who made my child cry. But still, I give her a friendly smile when she glances over at me to make sure I’m not mad at her.

I get it, I totally get it.

If you’re a guy, you probably don’t get it. “Why on earth would you care if some stranger in the grocery store likes you?” asks my husband. And I have to admit, when you put it that way, it does sound kinda nuts.

And it’s not just strangers whose opinions I care about. I have a few acquaintances that I really can’t stand, you couldn’t pay me enough money to voluntarily spend an evening with them–but I still care if they like me. (No, I’m not talking about you, silly reader. I really do like you.)

I know, it’s completely crazy, I just can’t help myself.

But here’s the thing, I’m not the only one who does this. As women, we are conditioned to want people to like us. I queried a bunch of my best girlfriends about this (the ones I really do like) and all of us agreed, we don’t like it when people don’t like us, regardless of whether or not we like them.

I refuse to believe this is just a Groucho Marxism: “I sent the club a wire stating, ‘Please accept my resignation. I don’t want to belong to any club that will accept me as a member.'” Or Woody Allenish: “I’d never join a club that would allow a person like me to become a member.”

I don’t think it’s just ego at work here either. Likeability, at least in women, is connected to success. Even when it has nothing to do with their ability to do the job.

It’s a double standard that women in high places have been dealing with for, well, pretty much forever. If you don’t stand tough, it undercuts all the respect that you’ve worked so hard to achieve. At the same time, if you seem too tough, people don’t like you, which again, undercuts your ability to be effective in your job. No wonder I’m so flummoxed by that woman in the grocery line.

Which brings me to Hillary Clinton.

If she were running for Homecoming Queen, or nominated for an academy award, then this focus on her “likeability” might make sense. But the last thing we need is for our president to be likeable. Our current president is likeable, and look where that got us. We don’t need likeable for president. We need tough and determined and courageous and principled. Why are we letting this most important election become a popularity contest? It’s a test of leadership.

More than ever, we need a leader for our leader. Whether we like her or not.

Leslie only really knows for sure that you like her if you send emails to email. For more columns visit www.LeslieDinaberg.com.

Originally published in the Santa Barbara Daily Sound on January 25, 2008.

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