As a temporary worker I flit about to a lot of assignments of varying degrees. The life of the temp is an inconsistent one and from one day to the next I sometimes have no idea where I’ll land. Recently I found myself sitting next to an older lady as part of the reception team at a busy downtown office.
She’s mostly no-nonsense but we’ve had a friendly rapport during my tenure. She’s been at her position a very long time and I’m sure she’s suffered through many a ridiculous Temp, present company definitely included. This close to retirement, I imagine it’s a pain in the ass to have to train and re-train dolts like myself over and over again.
Last week we were making polite conversation about our respective weekends. When she asked me what I did over the weekend, I hesitated. I had gone to the Pride Festival with my family, of course, but wasn’t sure if that was a detail to be shared. Why not, you ask? Well, that’s what I’ve asked myself repeatedly SINCE this happened, but that’s another conversation.
I decided in .03 seconds that I would, in fact, mention it. After all, it is WHAT I DID THAT WEEKEND. I’m not entirely sure why I was changing MY story to make HER comfortable, and I’ll just get right to the rest of the story because as you’ll see, I clearly know nothing about anything.
I told her we had gone to the Pride Festival and parade and took our children. I told her we also bought some peaches and cream corn at the Farmer’s Market and on Sunday, we did yard work.
She listened politely and didn’t flinch at any of my weekend details. After sharing her respective weekend activities with me, we resumed our regular morning routine at work. I silently patted myself on the back for being authentic. I mean, who was SHE to judge ME, right?!? If she would like to have a conversation with me about why I support equal rights for ALL humans beings and gender equality and am anti-homophobic and believe love is love and abhor the asshat in the White House, then that is just fine by me. . . BRING IT ON, OLD SOUTHERN WOMAN.
As she got up to get her morning cup of joe, she turned and looked back at me and smiled. “I’m delighted your family attended the Pride Festival. My grand-daughter is transgender.”
Well, the good news is that for once in my life I did NOT have to pry my foot from my mouth and/or apologize for having no filter or common sense or etiquette. The bad news is that it turns out I’m just as judgmental and speculative as the next doofus and I have to work on my pre-concieved assumptions just like everyone else.
I’ve never been so happy to have been so wrong.