Uncle Hasan the Elder – Part 4: "Strategic Anger, Sweet Results"

Everyone in our family has had at least one unforgettable encounter with Uncle Hasan the Elder, a man whose temper was unpredictable, whose logic was twisted yet effective, and whose ability to control any situation was nothing short of legendary.

My cousin told me this one story that sums it all up.

One summer afternoon, Uncle Hasan’s car broke down. Naturally, he decided it was the perfect time to involve someone else in his chaos, in this case, my cousin.

He called him and said, “Get ready, you’re coming with me to the mechanic.”

“But I don’t know anything about cars,” my cousin protested.

“You think I’m asking you to do heart surgery? I need a witness. And maybe someone to learn something about life.” Classic Uncle Hasan.

So, off they went to the mechanic. My cousin thought he’d just stand around awkwardly while the grown-ups talked about carburetors and spark plugs. But the second they got there, Uncle Hasan pointed toward the back of the workshop and said, “Go get the wrench I asked for.”

“What wrench?” my cousin asked, genuinely confused. And then, boom. The explosion was happen.

“You never listen! This is exactly what’s wrong with your generation — no attention to detail! You think the world owes you clear instructions?”

He didn’t just shout. He performed. His hands flew into the air. His voice cracked with emotion. He even muttered something about the decline of society. The mechanic paused mid-screwdriver-turn, startled.

“Uh, Sir… calm down, don’t worry, he’s just a kid,” the mechanic said, nervously. “I’ll take care of everything. You’ll have the car good as new.”

My cousin, stunned and slightly humiliated, just stood there while the mechanic bent over backward to reassure the fearsome old man.

Then, just like that, the storm passed. Uncle Hasan turned to my cousin, sighed deeply, and said:

“Here, take this money and go buy yourself some ice cream.”

What?

Later, on the drive home — with a cone in hand and questions swirling in his head — my cousin asked him, “Daii… why did you yell at me like that? I didn’t even know about the wrench!”

Uncle Hasan smirked and replied:

“Exactly. I knew you didn’t. That wasn’t for you. That performance was for the mechanic.”

He continued, like a master tactician debriefing a trainee:

“Listen, son. You don’t want a lazy mechanic thinking he can get away with cutting corners. If he thinks I’m the kind of guy who snaps over a missing wrench, just imagine how careful he’ll be with the bolts and the parts. He’ll use the best materials, double-check everything, and never try to overcharge me. Fear, my dear boy, is a better tool than a warranty.”

My cousin blinked. “But the ice cream?”

“Collateral kindness. You don’t go to war without offering peace afterwards. Keeps people loyal.”

Then he added with a wink, “Also, when we get home, I’ll complain to your aunt and the kids about how expensive the car was to fix — after all, ‘I had to deal with a useless helper too!’ That way, nobody asks me for extra cash for a few days.”

Turns out, this was a regular strategy.

My cousin later told me that every time a plumber, electrician, or technician came to their house, Uncle Hasan would start with a fake meltdown — sometimes about unrelated things like power bills or shoes at the door — just to set the tone. His wife was in on it, too. She’d nod solemnly while mouthing “He’s in a bad mood today” to the worker.

And without fail, they’d get the best service, the fairest price, and no follow-up problems.

The Lesson?

To the untrained eye, Uncle Hasan might seem like a cranky, unpredictable old man. But beneath that loud exterior was a strategy more refined than any negotiation book you’ll find. Controlled chaos. Planned panic. Weaponized wisdom.

And always, always… an ice cream to make it all go down smoothly.