Conflict Resolution When Both Parties Have Missiles
#WastelandWednesday
Conflict Resolution When Both Parties Have Missiles
There are moments in every life coach's career that test their dedication to peaceful resolution. In the old world, this might have meant mediating between Karen from Accounting and Steve from HR over stolen lunch items. In the wasteland, I'm currently sitting in an underground bunker, watching two community leaders point nuclear warheads at each other over water rights while Judy Dench grooms herself on top of a deactivated atomic bomb, somehow managing to make it look like a luxury cat bed.
"Bunker 23 has historically controlled the aquifer!" shouts Administrator Jenkins, her finger hovering over what I really hope isn't a real launch button.
"Bunker 42 discovered the new access point!" retorts Overseer Martinez, whose bunker's missile system seems to be operated by an ancient iPad with a cracked screen.
In my previous life, I would have suggested trust falls. However, when both parties are already underground and armed with missiles, you need to adjust your techniques.
"Before we escalate to thermonuclear war," I interject, using my most soothing 'let's all be reasonable about this' voice, "perhaps we could try a conflict resolution exercise? One that doesn't involve mutually assured destruction?"
Both leaders look at me like I've suggested they solve their problems by juggling rad-spiders.
"In the spirit of productive dialogue," I continue, pulling out my slightly singed copy of 'Win-Win or Nuclear Winter: A Guide to Post-Apocalyptic Negotiations,' "let's start by acknowledging each other's positions. Administrator Jenkins, what do you hear Overseer Martinez saying?"
"I hear that she wants to steal our water and probably launch missiles at us," Jenkins replies.
"Not quite the active listening I was hoping for," I mutter, while Judy Dench gives me a look that clearly says 'maybe we should have specialized in couples counseling instead.'
"Let's try this another way. What would happen if you both launched your missiles?"
"We'd destroy each other's bunkers," Martinez says.
"And the aquifer?" I prompt.
There's a long pause as both leaders contemplate the radioactive crater that would replace their water source.
"You know," Jenkins says slowly, "my father used to tell me about something called 'timeshares'..."
Four hours, three near-launches, and one impromptu presentation on "Sustainable Resource Management in a Post-Nuclear Landscape" later, we reach an agreement. Both bunkers will share the aquifer, alternating access weekly. They'll also establish a joint maintenance team, because as I remind them, "A well-maintained apocalypse is a happy apocalypse."
The real breakthrough comes when Judy Dench, tired of our negotiations, decides to take a nap directly on top of Bunker 23's launch controls. It's hard to maintain aggressive posturing when a giant Persian cat is using your nuclear arsenal as a scratching post.
"You know," Martinez says, watching Judy Dench shed all over their missile guidance system, "my bunker has a pretty decent cafeteria. Maybe we could have our next meeting there? Without the missiles?"
"Only if you still have those pre-war coffee pods," Jenkins replies. "We've been brewing mushroom coffee for the last decade."
As we leave the bunkers behind, I can't help but feel proud. In the old world, I once wrote a blog post titled "Ten Ways to Defuse Tension in the Workplace." While "Remove All Nuclear Weapons" wasn't on that list, perhaps it should have been.
Remember: Just because you can solve a problem with missiles, doesn't mean you should. Also, never underestimate the diplomatic power of a well-placed cat.
Side Note: Judy Dench would like me to mention that she did not shed on the nuclear launch controls intentionally. She just happened to be molting that day. On both sets of controls. Repeatedly. She's very insistent about this point.
Next Chapter: "Dealing with Disappointment: When Your Bunker Mate Eats the Last Twinkie"
