No One Has Ever Accused Me Of Being Appropriate...

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.