RECENTLY on the tram – a conflict story from everyday life

Conflicts inflame our emotions. Our guest author Isolde Weberberger tells us how the heat of a summer day leads to a conflict on a tram. She found herself not only on a climate-friendly public transport system, but also in the eye of a hurricane of conflict that came to a surprising end. At the same time, Isolde highlights the increasing propensity for escalation and offers a glimpse into Austria's multicultural soul.

Isolde Weberberger is a committed public transport user, even when it can get a bit hectic.

I am a committed public transport user.

Always have, not just since the climate ticket contributed to overcrowding on trains and trams even during off-peak hours. I don't like driving and am fortunate that my home and work areas are well connected.

My husband and all my friends drive me around, and the decision to only use public transport is a healing balm for my nerves and those of those around me.

Of course, I experience delays, cancellations, even accidents and all the usual mishaps that come with public transport life – despite this, and especially because the positive aspects outweigh the negative ones, I can handle the various challenges very well and in a relaxed manner.

Sometimes, amidst the chaos and sensory overload, moments of interpersonal connection emerge. People show solidarity, show interest in one another, or even laugh together, even though they didn't know each other before.

When it comes to various "passenger sins"—like talking loudly on the phone (i.e., shouting in capital letters into your smartphone), blocking doors, and being rude to older people—I do intervene. Confidently, smiling, and insisting on understanding. Through years of face-to-face training and the necessary courage to speak up, I've often been able to make the situation more pleasant for those involved.

Last week at 36 degrees, after a strenuous day in the hopelessly overcrowded regional train, life taught me a new lesson:

A bicycle handlebar digs into my hip on one side, the backpack of the person opposite me on the other. A child screams. The strange, human-chemical smells, which are no longer identifiable, lead to a cough and a longing for the mask requirement again (or rather, annoyance at my own forgetfulness; I usually always have one in my pocket... In vain, I can't reach it anyway.)

What do my already irritated eyes see? A very well-groomed, elderly lady is trying to maintain her personal space. I know this all too well. If you're already hanging on the armpit of the person in front of you, your personal space is being exceeded, and you perceive it as a physical assault. This certainly creates a bad mood. She smiles kindly and asks for caution and a little more space. Nothing happens. Pure ignorance – that's what triggers me the most.

Already dazed by the cloud of sweaty odor that has settled in the backpack carrier's synthetic fabric made in China, I gather my remaining strength of solidarity, put on a smile, and suddenly hear myself:

"Hello, would you please make a little more room for this lady? I know it's completely overcrowded here and we're all annoyed by it, but if we all work together, maybe we can make a few more centimeters."

Whatever my words or facial expression triggered, the domino begins to tip under the crowded passengers. Verbal attacks, ranging from quiet grumbling to loud yelling, fill the inhospitable space: "Shut your mouth, old lady" is the most polite phrase from the backpacker, who suddenly becomes downright sympathetic to me.

Completely overwhelmed, I shout loudly into the crowd: "HELLOOOOO – stop – I haven't done anything to you – PLEASE be considerate – we're almost there!"

The old lady has now lowered her head – either in resignation or out of fear.

Naturally, the pack refuses to calm down, becoming increasingly louder and even more insolent. And then things really get going: A middle-aged man in a suit (!!!) shoves a previously relaxed student, who in turn defends himself both verbally and with his elbow. The initial unrest develops into a scene of emotional and intellectual poverty. The situation escalates.

"JE BOTE , BUDALO" One thing you have to give this man credit for: he's incredibly eloquent. A JUGO—the self-definition of males with a migrant background from the Balkans—whose curses still sound foreign to my ears. Even though the slang has long been socially acceptable for many, he manages to stand with his legs wide apart, grin at the crowd, and then shout in my direction: STA TI JE; JE BEM TI MATER?

I immediately blush even more and feel embarrassed. This is the ultimate conflict resolution method. Some people, either respectful of his height or fearful of his height, moderate their expressions. Others laugh, and the old lady responds in a language commonly used in the Balkans—although I could only translate the word "THANK YOU."

Everyone's eyes are clearly directed in my direction and it becomes clear to me: I am to blame for all of this.

Glad that the train ride is over and I've arrived home, I'm still deeply moved by it, thinking about a time when the world was still in order. Back in the summer of 1998, when I was standing on the tram one morning and a Nena imitation next to me, holding onto the handrail with her arm raised, gave me a glimpse into the musk jungle.

And nothing else happened.

Nothing at all.

Conflict Barometer

People involved:	🧨🧨
Escalation:	🧨🧨🧨
Relevance:	🧨🧨
Possible empathy:	🕊🕊
Solution options:	🕊
Achievable compromise:	🕊🕊

The Conflict Barometer is a non-scientific attempt to assess conflict situations. Depending on the severity, up to three sticks of dynamite or peace doves can be awarded.

Author: Isolde Weberberger

is a sales professional and sales manager at Connex. In her free time, she is, among other things, a passionate amateur actress.