Ugh. The ethical dilemma of the impossible friend.
Today was Rip Claassen’s birthday, and also the day I learned that he had died of a massive stroke two weeks ago. Rip was involved in many aspects of my life: he was my son’s homeschooling tutor and his first employer, he was the costume designer that I turned to most frequently as artistic director of The American Century Theater, and I also hired him as a stage director on a couple of occasions. He was a very talented, sweet, kind and sensitive man.
He was also a very eccentric man with a lot of problems. That photo above is how he looked and often dressed in his later years, but Rip—and this not unusual for a costume designer—was likely to wear the damnedest things, including pajama bottoms, in public. He was, as he would usually tell you soon after he met you, what they used to call an Asperger’s sufferer—apparently Asperger was a Nazi or something, so the name has been “cancelled”; I don’t what the condition called now—which means that he was bad at reading social cues and tended to get obsessed with certain topics to the extent that he couldn’t focus on anything else. But Rip did a marvelous, courageous job of coping with and minimizing the damage caused by this malady, and I respected him for that. In fact, I urged him to market a service of helping parents of children with that autism-spectrum problem. (He never did.)
Rip bought a theatrical supplies business which he promptly drove into bankruptcy with his quirks. Grace and I loaned him a substantial amount to help him buy the business (okay, it was Grace’s idea), and it was money we never saw again. After that disaster, Rip started asking us for more “loans”—not just us, but my wife was generous and sympathetic to a fault. Eventually, it was the only reason we ever heard from him: he was desperate, the wolf was at the door, he was homeless, nobody would hire him. I gave Rip pro bono legal services and other assistance, but after handing over a couple hundred more dollars that we really couldn’t spare, I finally convinced Grace that we weren’t going to take his calls and emails any more. The Marshalls were having their own problems, and a friend in need who only contacts you to fill that need is a perplexing friend indeed.
We heard that other friends and associates of Rip had cut him off, which only made us feel more guilty. The last time I saw him was when he turned up in our cul de sac one day when I was returning home from walking Spuds. I didn’t recognize him, and he was dressed so strangely that Spuds reacted like he was an alien invader, barking and generally acting terrified. Grace didn’t want to let him into the house as she was not up to receiving visitors that day, so I told Rip through the storm door that he should call me. “I have called you, and you never pick up!” he said. “I know, Rip, and I feel badly about that,” I replied. “But call me tomorrow at the office, and I’d love to catch up. I promise that I’ll talk to you.”
And I would have, too. I never heard from him again, however. The fact that Rip never bothered to send any condolences after Grace’s sudden death last year or to attend her memorial event makes me feel a little less guilty. But not much.
There are four close friends in my life that I have cut off, including Rip Claassen. I feel guilty about all of them, well, two of them anyway. If there is an ethical way to handle this problem that does not involve feeling like a mark or, in the alternative, a selfish creep, I’d love to hear it.
It seems hypocritical to say now that I’ll miss Rip Claassen, but I will, and so will the D.C. artistic community. You can read why here.
Ethics Alarms 
Honesty about relationships is the ethical thing to do and I believe this post shows you did just that. There are two ways of evaluating relationships that grow apart; from your perspective and from the other’s. Both sides are equally responsible for equitable treatment of the other. You offered your hand when you could and it was up to him whether or not he would take it. It is not necessary to provide help every time, especially if it creates potential harm for yourself. Whether or not his psychological disorder played any role in his behavior is probably self evident but again, that is outside your control. you worked with what you were presented. You did not hold that against him. No one could ask for more from a friend.
Despite often feeling used you still offered kind words in the end and that is all anyone can do.
I’ve never cut people off, though I’ve been cut off by people like Rip (autism spectrum types) when the relationship wasn’t going exactly how they wanted. I’ve mentioned before a friend who occassionally has me do shopping trips and such, but is sometimes slow to pay me back. If, hypothetically, he never paid me back, I wouldn’t ignore his calls, but I would make it clear that I wouldn’t spend another cent on him until outstanding bills were paid. But I can understand ignoring calls when you know they will only be about money.
No disrespect to your friend, but I’ve grown weary of the “loveable eccentric” archetype where a person is supposed to have a heart of gold and anything they do wrong is simply chalked up to other people “not understanding them”. As someone with a learning disability, I’ve sought to be a functionally indepedent, reliable, decent person that other decent people can trust and feel comfortable around. I’m certain not perfect in these areas, but I always seek to learn from my mistakes and do better. I have little patience for people who expect the general perks of adulthood when they aren’t functioning like adults.
I had this sort of conversation recently.
I have a group of friend who were friends since Kindergarten-50 years. They grew up together. I came into their lives in high school, a mere 40 years ago. These friends, S, J, and M had a close history and a strong friendship.
And, I was an outsider. I have very little in common with any of them, and I am pretty sure that at least two of them have asked me at some point, “why are we even friends?” I don’t know that I had a memorable answer to that question. If I had, I could probably tell you what it was. Maybe it was the fact that all three have been clients; I have often told other lawyers that I attribute some of my “success” to my “good for nothing friends.” (In actuality, when I was pursuing a degree in law, I thought it would be great if I could help people I know solve their legal troubles; the opportunities have presented themselves, that’s for sure.
Well, there has been a falling out. S. Has had his share of troubles. He has determined that he needs a break from his past and wants no contact with J. And C., as well as R. And K., his mother, etc. He is fine with me. Somehow, I am okay. Maybe because I have helped him through tough times. I don’t know.
J and M, however, are saddened by this. S’s reason is not entirely unreasonable. He feels like a giver in a world of takers; maybe it is that he does not view me as a taker that earned me a pass. Maybe he is taking from me, so he needs me.
He is right about M. M is a taker. We all know that. C., in particular, knows that M is a taker. And, C is in your position, Jack. He knows M. Is a taker, and C will do what he can to help M. But, he knows who he is dealing with. (Reminds me of your story about your dad’s friend.). C. Can handle M.’s personality, but S cannot. So, S, with all of his problems, has cut almost everybody off. C won’t give up on M, but he is also not giving him money right and left. He is doing his best to be a good friend.
I don’t really have an end to this story, because S has not reconciled and M has not died, so I will leave it at that.
-Jut
Friendship is reciprocal. It isn’t that you have to expect to be repaid all the time and in proportion to what you have done for the friend in question. It’s that there has to be some reciprocity in some way. There has to be the understanding that this is a relational friendship and not a transactional one. When Rip only came to you when he needed money, he signaled that the friendship was now transactional.
I suppose the old adage about never doing business with friends is right.
There is a point when you must set boundaries, even with friends – especially with friends like Rip who used your past relational friendship to take advantage of your good will – when you have to prioritize your own well- being and the well-being of your family.
There is also a point when you recognize that you aren’t helping your friend anymore, only delaying the inevitable. I suppose that’s when you stopped answering Rip’s calls.
Perhaps, it would have made a difference if you and Rip’s other friends had explained firmly to him that no more money would be forthcoming and that you would be happy to communicate with him as long as he did not ask for financial help rather than just cut him off entirely. Perhaps, not. How he chose to react would have been on him, not you.
I am sorry your friend has died. You are mourning not only the loss of the man of whom you have many fond memories, but also the loss of the relationship you had before he turned your friendship into a business transaction.
I hope you can focus on your good memories rather than on the guilt of not answering high-pressure requests for money.
There are indeed some who think friendship and freeloading are synonymous. It is definitely not unethical to disregard them in a dignified way. It sounds like you did so.
Thanks. It sure doesn’t feel like it…
People tend to be complicated, for sure. Sometimes, mental struggles can also be a factor. I tend to look at the person as a whole. I’ve grown up around some very damaged people, so I can see the “good person” underneath some of the “bad behavior.” Intention, patterns, etc. all kind of go together. I hope he found peace and got himself together before the end.
Jack,
I just found out about Rip. I, too, feel sad and conflicted.
You have described the situation well for me.
Appreciately,
Amy
You are someone who must be as conflicted as I am, Amy. Rip was such a sweet and kind man, and in many ways courageous. He deserved better. Thank-you for checking in.
All true.
One thing with friendships is that they are not like romantic relationships, which generally have well-defined ends (and starts for that matter, but irrelevant here). As all of us keep trawling through life some friendships will come and go, some become distant, others don’t. You kind of always expect to be able to call a friend and get a sympathetic ear – even after years of nothing but birthday and Christmas messages. I know I’ve abused that privilege a couple of times, and at least in one of them it led to a reconstruction of that relationship, being one of my closest friends now with whom I have very regular contact. For some of us it’s also harder, and requires more effort to just get those first five minutes of catching up, so these friendships tend to go the way of that dusty book one never finishes. Anyway, enough rambling… make that call, spend those 20 minutes with that one friend you’ve been thinking about from time to time. You’ll probably get a smile on your face, and even in the worst case, a story to tell down the line to your descendants and common acquaintances.
Jack, you made one such UNREQUITTED EFFORT five (5) years ago as we speak.
I once had a good friend (roomed with him twice for a year each time and a better Julie Principle example you’ll never find) with whom I had a rather ugly falling out 32 years ago.
He was never in very good health, physically or mentally, but we were good pals, for better or the more frequent worse.
We had mutual friends, and whenever I asked after him I’d hear that he never passed up a chance to rip on me, which, in the interests of balance and perspective, was always immediately followed by me cutting him a new one.
It was always in the back of my mind there’d be a chance for us to reconcile. Doing so wasn’t in his skill set; were ever to happen, I knew it would fall to me. He died ten years ago come May.
PWS