The suburban high school student universe extended only as far as one could walk, bike, or skateboard. Unless that is, you had a willing parent or older sibling who could drive you and your friends to the nearest shopping mall.
We had options to get to the nearest one — a motivated walk and located across from an abandoned horse track, Washington Square offered a theater and a well-stocked arcade but not much else besides the Service Merchandise anchor store.
This was the choice during the week or when no rides were available, on the weekends. Rides required coordination and cooperation between two sets of parents — one to pick everyone up and the other to drop all off at their homes one by one.
In addition to the time commitment, a show of patience to chaperone high school boys around — hyped up on mall possibilities on the way out and Orange Juilus and amazing tales on the return trip home.
It was on the return trip that the Byron Tapper Rule originated.
There was a core group of five or six of us with some variation in the car seating from weekend to weekend. No matter the mix of friends, whose parent was dropping off, or whose house was first on the way, Byron had the peculiar insistence on always being the last one dropped off.
He was adamant and consistent in the request on each mall excursion, politely informing the parent driving of this requirement as soon as we loaded into the car.
I finally asked Byron why he always insisted on being the last. “It’s simple,” he said, “whoever gets dropped off first, all the other guys will talk about him and I don’t want you guys trashing me if I’m not here.”
Essentially, Byron knew that we would all tear him apart and poke fun at anything he had done or said on the mall trip — and he was right because that’s exactly what we did whenever someone got out of the car.
The Byron Tapper Rule became simply this: No talking about someone else from the group without them being present to speak for themselves.
Or, if something cannot be said directly with another individual present, then perhaps it is best not said and would only diminish, not strengthen the dynamic.
I have carried this with me through not only personal relationships but even more so in professional settings. More than once I have blurted out “Byron Tapper Rule” in a conference room as soon as my coworkers began chatting about another colleague who had left the meeting.
After explaining what I had just said to ease their puzzled faces, a good laugh and recognition of good practice only lent more transparency and honesty to our collaboration going forward.
In the end, while office meetings can be at once as bewildering and engaging as a high school mall trip, best that some things are left at the food court table and the takeaways are actions that strengthen the team for the next adventure.
