I’ve been described in lots of ways but in terms of
personality, it boils down to one of two things. Some say I’m aloof and standoff-ish. Some say I’m very open and friendly (or, as
my husband usually puts it, too
friendly and too open). Both are probably true. I can certainly be reserved and I can also be
quick to hug and smile. I’ve been
accused of being cold and bitchy. I’ve
been accused of being funny and lighthearted.
One thing’s for sure – no one has ever accused me of being
appropriate.
I live – as much as any honest person can, anyway – by
the Golden Rule. I try to treat everyone
the way I’d like to be treated and, more specifically, don’t treat anyone
differently or better than anyone else.
That means that I communicate with the janitor, my doctor, the grocery
store cashier, a senator, or the guy behind me in line for the port-a-potty the
same way. For some reason, this
surprises people. And unsettles some.
Many years (lifetimes?) ago, I was at the 1996 Coca Cola
Olympic Village, doing interviews with all sorts of people for my radio
station. There were “man on the street”
type snippets, a couple of athletes, and the President of Coca Cola. Later, at another event, I was talking about
that day and someone who heard me was astounded that I could have a 2 minute conversation
with someone like a high level Coke executive!
It honestly never occurred to me that I shouldn’t be comfortable doing
that. He’s just a man. Pants one leg at a time and all that. I asked very predictable questions, he gave
me predictable answers. It was my
job. It was his job. When we wrapped up, I shook his hand, then
shook his assistant’s hand and we said “Thank you” at the same time. So I laughed and said “Jinx, you owe me a
Coke!” The VIP laughed, I smiled. Life went on.
Before then and since then, I’ve met lots of interesting
VIP type people. And said or did things
that Miss Manners would not have done.
When I crossed paths with Hosea Williams, I stuck my tongue out at
him. I don’t even remember why – we’d
just been making small talk while he waited to pick someone up. I remember that it felt right at the moment and
I remember that he laughed and said something about me having “spunk” before the
Ambassador left the building. This seems
to be a pattern with me, and I’m OK with that.
I don’t have Turret’s Syndrome and am perfectly capable of controlling
my words (and my tongue), I just don’t see why I should. If I speak to a Senator like a human being,
he will probably see me as one, too. If
not, well, I’m not losing any sleep over that and I doubt he is, either.
By the same token, if I speak to a cashier or waiter or
the trash guy, I have the same likelihood of putting my foot in my mouth if the
moment presents itself. Life is full of
moments. Life is often embarrassing!
Life is messy! Life is funny! Why do we
pretend it isn’t? I live in my
moments. Embarrassing, messy, funny, or
sad.
True, I often do my living in the company of people who
actually have filters between their brains and their mouths. People who don’t speak every ridiculous
thought they have. I try to be mindful
of that but the reflex usually wins over the restraint. So there are plenty of occasions that leave
me amused, leave a stranger stunned until they chuckle, and that leave my
companions aghast that I just did or said whatever I just did or said.
By admitting that I have no desire to reel it in, one
might think that I’m rude or ill mannered.
Not so - see above about striving to live by the Golden Rule. While I may say what pops into my head to
perfect strangers, I don’t believe I am ever rude. I don’t think I ever say anything untrue,
and would never say anything that I think could be construed as hurtful. If I speak, it’s because I want to make a
human connection. Sometimes it’s about
just plain recognition – one human being to another. I’m not trying to form relationships with
everyone I encounter. I think a bit of
contact that brings a fleeting smile is plenty.
As for the aloof description? That’s pretty accurate, too. I don’t need to connect with everyone. I’m just as likely to say nothing at all as I
am to say something flippant. I don’t
love small talk and have no desire to discuss the weather or outfits or new
hairstyles. I rarely go to the same hair
dresser twice because I don’t need a friend, I need a haircut. But just because I’m standing quietly in the
corner doesn’t mean I’m not connected. I
observe everything around me. If I speak
up in an unexpected way, it’s probably because I felt that the person I’m
speaking to needed to hear whatever silly thing I said.
Perhaps Miss Manners and her associates don’t understand
this and would label me. That’s fine
with me. I would still tell her if her
clothing tag is sticking out (and would reach out to tuck it in). I’d still make a lame joke. I’d still laugh out loud about it.
After all, no one ever accused me of being appropriate.
