If I don’t I’ll burst.
Conversation going on in the change room at work today…
Keep in mind, the room is about 20 by 40 feet. At any given time there may be up to 50+ people in there, scrubbing up and/or changing into clean room gear. There are racks of uniforms, hair covers and shoe covers, stainless sinks, loud Dyson hand dryers, a large table and four stainless benches. Sound carries…
With that many people all trying to talk over one another, you hear many conversations, most of them loud. Pretty much impossible not to overhear.
You may recall the woman I’ve told you about who I have a problem with. The one who has the problem with all other races, creeds, sexual preferences, etc. Well. Today I found out she has a problem with “Artsy-types.” Yes, you read that correctly. And you may also assume that I took that very personally. Not a lot more than any of her other prejudices, which I find offensive- but in a more personal way.
You see, there is a guy we work with who is nothing, if not colorful and interesting. Literally and figuratively. This week his mop of thick black hair is accented with a beautiful bright patch of neon turquoise. The woman in question was giving him her standard third degree… What made you decide to do that? How much did it cost? Does it wash out? Yadda yadda yadda. I just rolled my eyes and gave him my “poor you” look. I’m one of the few people who has taken the time to get to know him and actually have real, meaningful conversations with the kid. Most of the women I work with are either intimidated by him or repulsed by his style. They’ve never taken the time to find out that he’s really nice and funny and a great conversationalist.
As soon as Mr. Prettyhair left the room, she started. Keep in mind, she “hangs” with a group of older and judgemental women who go to church functions and pride themselves in their quote Christianity unquote.
After pretty much dissecting the poor kid and his wardrobe, jewelry and hair, she proclaimed that his need to “express himself” was way out of whack. Or something to that effect. And she added, “My daughter-in-law is one of those artsy types, so you can imagine how I worry about how my grandson will turn out.” Then, if that wasn’t enough, she went on to describe an “artistic” boy who works at the grocery store. Don’t get her wrong, she stressed, he’s a nice kid and all, but… To which one of her cronies replied, “Did you say autistic or artistic?” and they all hooted and hollered in laughter. I thought I was gonna go ballistic on each and every one of their asses right then and there. Of course I was not part of the conversation and to intercede would make me as rude ok not AS rude as they are.
You know me well enough to know that just about all of my personal principles were offended and slaughtered to shreds in that short period of time. Rather than cause a scene, I quickly left the room and returned to my desk and seethed for about 10 minutes and did some deep breathing exercises. I also vowed that, given the opportunity, no, wait. I will try not to say it. But in my head, I’ll be saying, “You know, your own personal brand of narrow-mindedness is WAY more offensive, shocking and down-right dangerous than any sort of artistic expression I have ever witnessed.”
Man, when I think about it, going off on her (and her friends) would be the ultimate masterpiece of artistic expression.