Tactlessness
I don't know what it is about me that attracts weird comments from absolute strangers.
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The other day I was standing in line at the post office, and the man just ahead suddenly turned to me and said, "How old are you?"
Actually, it was more like, "How OLD are YOU?!?!?" No hello, no smile, no polite small talk. Just a bug-eyed stare and the blurted-out question.
I stood with my mouth open for a moment, wishing I had some witty reply. Momentarily I thought about saying, "Why do you ask?" or "How old are you?"
I could have asked him how much he weighed, how tall he was, what his annual salary was, or whether his mother taught him any manners. Maybe I should have. But I didn't.
I just mumbled, "I'm 29."
He said, "When did your hair start turning gray?"
I considered saying, "What a strange question," or "That's none of your business."
Instead, I gave my standard reply, complete with the obligatory little chuckle: "My hair started turning grey when I was 13. Actually, I was one of the late ones in the family. Some of my mom's aunts started turning grey at 10 or 12."
I didn't elaborate further, but I think it's interesting that my great-grandmother's hair was completely white by age 30. My grandmother had a white streak several inches wide down the back of her head when she was 18. All the other kids wanted to know how she did it. We joke that Grandma single-handedly started the fad of streaking hair.
The man didn't stop there. He asked what made our hair turn grey so young. (The Scottish blood, supposedly. He was quite interested in that, and probed about it almost introspectively. I'm not sure why. He himself was of African-American descent.) Then he went on to tell me how grey hair is a good thing, and ask if people commented on it often.
"Yes," I said, "people do comment about it. Once I got rear-ended at a stoplight and the other driver jumped out of his car and hollered, 'I hope I didn't just give you all that grey hair, haha.'"
People often ask me how old I am, when my hair started turning gray, why I don't dye it (I prefer grey hair to hives, I say) or whether it runs in the family. Some people pressure me to dye my hair (an Arab man at our neighborhood gas station was particularly insistent about it). Others tell me that it's beautiful or that they admire me for "going natural."
Many people experience congnitive dissonance when faced with the contrast between my graying hair and my youthful appearance and bearing. It doesn't really bother me. I'm not particularly self-conscious about it. I guess I just don't care about it one way or another all that much. One of these days I'll probably get around to trying a natural dye on it again. I bought the dye the day the checker at the natural food store asked me if I was a single mother. But I'm waiting to use the dye until I get my hair cut first. Why waste it on the 6 inches of hair I'll be cutting off?
The double-takes and comments about my hair don't faze me. I like to tell people that the Bible says grey hair is a sign of wisdom and a crown of glory.
Tonight, though, it wasn't my hair.
The checker at Wal-Mart commented about the fabric I was buying. "My, you're going to be a busy little bee."
"Um-hmm."
"You're quite the Little Miss Suzy Homemaker, aren't you?"
What to say to that? I don't mind the comments about my hair, but this I found a bit insulting. Busy little bee? Little Miss Suzy Homemaker? I was quick to explain that I don't really know how to sew well, but I just recently started getting interested in sewing and I think it's fun.
I'm not exactly sure what I found derogatory about it--I certainly don't think there's anything shameful or undesirable about being a homemaker. I don't think I would have taken it amiss if the checker had been old enough to be my grandmother, but she wasn't.
In fact, she looked at my driver's license and commented that she and I were the same age. She has a 10-year-old and a 7-year-old. When she told me that, it of course crossed my mind that she started having kids pretty young, but I had enough tact just to say something along the line of "How nice."
Mainly, I hate being talked down to. Some people can refer to me as "little" (well, I am--and was acutely sensitive about that as the smallest child my age in any gathering) or call me "honey" without being condescending about it. Usually it doesn't bother me. But sometimes I think it's a way for people to try to feel superior. Occasionally the tone and context really are condescending.
In this case, I'm not sure what the checker's motivation was. But she made a significant assumption about what type of person I am and what my abilities (or perhaps lack of abilities) are, based on the bare fact that I bought some fabric and fresh produce.
The way she said it almost seemed that she considered me of a different world than herself--a world she probably has mixed feelings toward. My guess is that some part of her feels threatened by someone who (she assumes) is good at sewing and (therefore by an incredible leap of logic) good at all the stereotypical homemaking sorts of things. But whether she sees those things as valuable or not is another matter.
Does she feel inadequate? Envious? Scornful? Superior? I don't know.
Maybe, like too many others, she just has the gift of complete tactlessness.
#######################
The other day I was standing in line at the post office, and the man just ahead suddenly turned to me and said, "How old are you?"
Actually, it was more like, "How OLD are YOU?!?!?" No hello, no smile, no polite small talk. Just a bug-eyed stare and the blurted-out question.
I stood with my mouth open for a moment, wishing I had some witty reply. Momentarily I thought about saying, "Why do you ask?" or "How old are you?"
I could have asked him how much he weighed, how tall he was, what his annual salary was, or whether his mother taught him any manners. Maybe I should have. But I didn't.
I just mumbled, "I'm 29."
He said, "When did your hair start turning gray?"
I considered saying, "What a strange question," or "That's none of your business."
Instead, I gave my standard reply, complete with the obligatory little chuckle: "My hair started turning grey when I was 13. Actually, I was one of the late ones in the family. Some of my mom's aunts started turning grey at 10 or 12."
I didn't elaborate further, but I think it's interesting that my great-grandmother's hair was completely white by age 30. My grandmother had a white streak several inches wide down the back of her head when she was 18. All the other kids wanted to know how she did it. We joke that Grandma single-handedly started the fad of streaking hair.
The man didn't stop there. He asked what made our hair turn grey so young. (The Scottish blood, supposedly. He was quite interested in that, and probed about it almost introspectively. I'm not sure why. He himself was of African-American descent.) Then he went on to tell me how grey hair is a good thing, and ask if people commented on it often.
"Yes," I said, "people do comment about it. Once I got rear-ended at a stoplight and the other driver jumped out of his car and hollered, 'I hope I didn't just give you all that grey hair, haha.'"
People often ask me how old I am, when my hair started turning gray, why I don't dye it (I prefer grey hair to hives, I say) or whether it runs in the family. Some people pressure me to dye my hair (an Arab man at our neighborhood gas station was particularly insistent about it). Others tell me that it's beautiful or that they admire me for "going natural."
Many people experience congnitive dissonance when faced with the contrast between my graying hair and my youthful appearance and bearing. It doesn't really bother me. I'm not particularly self-conscious about it. I guess I just don't care about it one way or another all that much. One of these days I'll probably get around to trying a natural dye on it again. I bought the dye the day the checker at the natural food store asked me if I was a single mother. But I'm waiting to use the dye until I get my hair cut first. Why waste it on the 6 inches of hair I'll be cutting off?
The double-takes and comments about my hair don't faze me. I like to tell people that the Bible says grey hair is a sign of wisdom and a crown of glory.
Tonight, though, it wasn't my hair.
The checker at Wal-Mart commented about the fabric I was buying. "My, you're going to be a busy little bee."
"Um-hmm."
"You're quite the Little Miss Suzy Homemaker, aren't you?"
What to say to that? I don't mind the comments about my hair, but this I found a bit insulting. Busy little bee? Little Miss Suzy Homemaker? I was quick to explain that I don't really know how to sew well, but I just recently started getting interested in sewing and I think it's fun.
I'm not exactly sure what I found derogatory about it--I certainly don't think there's anything shameful or undesirable about being a homemaker. I don't think I would have taken it amiss if the checker had been old enough to be my grandmother, but she wasn't.
In fact, she looked at my driver's license and commented that she and I were the same age. She has a 10-year-old and a 7-year-old. When she told me that, it of course crossed my mind that she started having kids pretty young, but I had enough tact just to say something along the line of "How nice."
Mainly, I hate being talked down to. Some people can refer to me as "little" (well, I am--and was acutely sensitive about that as the smallest child my age in any gathering) or call me "honey" without being condescending about it. Usually it doesn't bother me. But sometimes I think it's a way for people to try to feel superior. Occasionally the tone and context really are condescending.
In this case, I'm not sure what the checker's motivation was. But she made a significant assumption about what type of person I am and what my abilities (or perhaps lack of abilities) are, based on the bare fact that I bought some fabric and fresh produce.
The way she said it almost seemed that she considered me of a different world than herself--a world she probably has mixed feelings toward. My guess is that some part of her feels threatened by someone who (she assumes) is good at sewing and (therefore by an incredible leap of logic) good at all the stereotypical homemaking sorts of things. But whether she sees those things as valuable or not is another matter.
Does she feel inadequate? Envious? Scornful? Superior? I don't know.
Maybe, like too many others, she just has the gift of complete tactlessness.
Copyright 2009. All rights reserved.
Posted by purple_kangaroo at 1:52 AM[Permanent link]
10 Comments:
I've been meeting some pretty tactless people recently as well. I've only blogged the high (low?) points. I wonder where the lesson is for me in it. I hope there is one, and this isn't just random pricks of unkindness that will go on for the rest of our lives.
Both of the posts made me cry, this one, and your blissful day as a single mom. Your writing inspires me.
"Quite the little miss suzy homemaker"??????
You've definitely earned your wings, my dear. I'm not sure I wouldn't have said something snide to her.
Both the post office person and the checker were rude beyond belief! What has happened to civility?
To the man in in post office, Ii would have countered "How old are you?" with "What did you do with the money?" and when he asked to what money was I referring, would have told him: "The money you should have spent on tact lessons, and obviously didn't."
How inexcusable on both of their parts! I don't think any of us would have faulted you if you'd let either of them have it with both barrels. We'd have helped! :)
I'm beginning to think it is seasonal. People seem nastier in the winter.
I would have been unable to bite my tongue, as I have hit that point in my pregnancy where I just blurt things out.
My grandma was completely gray by 30 as well. I think I'll hit the milestone sometime between now and 40. Could be a lot worse. At least I still have hair. Unlike my little brother, who started balding at 18.
I'm not planning to dye mine, either. My grandma developed all kinds of sensitivities after decades of coloring her hair, and I'd just as soon skip it.
I love hearing everyone's suggestions for what you would have said, LOL. Thanks for the thoughts, everyone.
PS, maybe it's not the Scottish blood then? You're not part Scottish, are you? LOL.
Terrific post but I wish that it did not arise from emotional pain.
Even when others are unintentionally rude or tactless, it can be a whopper. I wish I knew why that happens, too. I think it could be for some of the reasons you suggest such as insecurity or even envy.
(I don't recall if you mentioned mere curiosity as a catalyst for the invasive questions. That is still no excuse from a grown adult. (It is from a child.)
I have close friends who turned gray prematurely. Some are guy friends who did not opt to dye their hair either. Of all the people I know, male and female, premature greyness IS genetic.
This is not to scare you, but please check this out with your doctor. I only remember the vague bottomline, not the specifics and I'm not a doctor. There is or can be a strong link to early stroke or heart disease, MUCH higher than the general population for those who turn gray. I have no idea if other factors must exist, but I told all my friends about 10 yrs ago when I read this in several places. It's important enough to check it out with a doctor who listens and knows about this instead of assuming you would have been told to get tests. Take care
Thanks for the heads-up (pun intended, LOL) on early graying, GEL. My post was more of the head-shaking variety than the deep emotional pain variety, but I'm glad you enjoyed it. :)
Late comment.
A friend of mine in high school had a gray streak at 16. She was of middle eastern descent, her family religious refugees b/c their Baha'i faith is really not tolerated by those in power anywhere over there...
Wow, Camera. I guess maybe other ethnicities besides Scottish have the early graying thing going on. I shouldn't assume that just because I've been told it's a Scottish trait all my life, that it necessarily is. :)
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