Last week I went to see a screening of the film Precious and, frankly, I’d rather run my nails down a blackboard than sit through it again.

It was that good.

If you’re confused by that seeming contradiction, you probably don’t know much about this film, which chronicles the story of a teen-aged girl (“Precious”) who is obese, abused and pregnant for the second time. It is so graphic and so jarring that when people asked me about it later my response was unintelligible. I wanted to put my hands over my ears, close my eyes and just babble, “la, la, la, la …”

But, nearly a week later, what this film has left me with is completely rethinking how I engage people I come into contact with in life. By showing the despicable acts of violence and the glimpse at how abuse is passed down through generations, viewers experienced an in-your-face presentation of something that is almost never in our faces.

Perhaps it needs to be.

The screening I attended courtesy of Safe Horizon -- Mission: Moving victims of violence from crisis to confidence -- was filled with gifted New York professionals who deal with this on a regular basis and are equipped to help in meaningful ways. But let’s face it. Most of us are not social workers or guidance counselors who might have a direct, institutional means to help a troubled teen like Precious. Or, for that matter, an adult who is living in an abusive situation. In fact, we may think we don’t even know anyone in that category.

Think again. Every day we encounter a client, a person next to us on the subway, a cashier at the grocery store, the co-worker we frequently have lunch with or the co-worker we only see occasionally on the elevator. Is it such a big effort to ask, what is our responsibility to them? And what is the difference in that responsibility to the person we see in the local coffee shop as opposed to our close friend? When do we get involved? Mind our own business? Lend an ear? When do we simply meet their eyes and smile? At the very least, can’t we muster politeness?

While certainly the abuse in her home was Precious’ biggest problem by far, the harassment on the street and the stares as she rode the subway were like a horrific piling on. Was anyone wondering what was behind her blank stare? Her suspicious glare? Would I have? When people are enduring an inordinate amount of stress, often their minds are numb or whirring like a projector. Either way that’s tough to reach.

I am not suggesting we all start walking up to strangers and insert ourselves into their lives, but maybe think about the person who works two cubicles down and consider what might be going on in her life that accounts for her scattered state, tardiness, disconnect, etc. before talking her down to co-workers, dismissing her, or assuming her aloofness has anything to do with us personally.

Why add to someone’s strife by tossing out a sarcastic line or throwing a dirty look? At this polarizing time in our nation, it would be something to start dealing with others person by person. Maybe those of us not currently plagued by a chronically ill loved one or a decision about how to get out of an abusive situation or choking debt can cast a reassuring smile in another’s direction. That’s something.

Not every cashier, toll taker, gas station attendant, receptionist and waitress we encounter is in crisis mode, but it wouldn’t take much effort to assume they are. It takes just as much energy to express your gruff indifference as it does to be polite.

Ever since I saw Precious I find myself looking into people’s eyes more when I’m out and about and trying to get a read on if they could be another “Precious.” I recently sat in an otherwise quiet Barnes & Noble when a woman talking on her phone made call after call. She was trying to line up some relief from the side symptoms of her chemotherapy. The best thing I could do for her was keep drinking my coffee and reading my book, and so I did.

The Beatles told us once that “All You Need Is Love.” I’m going to take the expectations down a few notches and suggest “All You Need Is Politeness.” That wouldn’t have solved Precious’s problems by any means, but maybe she could have taken a breath, mustered some hope, experienced even for a moment another way of being in the world if she encountered more kind strangers.

Clearly I won’t be watching that movie again any time soon, but its impact will be rippling through me for a long, long time.

Nancy Colasurdo is a practicing life coach and freelance writer. Her Web site is www.nancola.com. Please direct all questions/comments to FOXGamePlan@gmail.com.