I spend my professional life living in the abject fear that I may, in total innocence, utter something that is politically incorrect or offensive to someone whose sensitivity threshold is much lower than mine. It was just last week that a client angrily accused me of being insensitive to “little people” because I used a politically incorrect term.
“I’m sorry,” I protested. “ But the movie is called ‘Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.’”
“It should be ‘Snow White and the Seven Little People,” she sniffed.
My colleague Jane has no such concerns. She’s tall and middle-aged with a shock of wild, gray hair and bright blue eyes. Jane says what she thinks when she thinks it, and does not lose a minute’s sleep if someone is offended.
It was just last week at a work-related cocktail party in Milwaukee that Jane and I ran into a mutual client we had not seen for a while. “Vivian!” said Jane, “Wow!– you’ve lost a lot of weight. What’s your secret?”
Jane clearly never noticed that Vivian’s head was wrapped in a scarf. “I have cancer,” said Vivian with dignity. “I just completed my fourth round of chemo.”
“Cancer?” said Jane heartily. “Well, you wear it well!” And she slapped Vivian on the back.
As we walked away, me murmuring apologies over my shoulder, we ran into Jason. “How’s it hanging, Buddy?” said Jane, as I cringed internally. “What’s new?”
Jason gave us a brief professional synopsis and said, “Oh yes, and Ileana is pregnant again. It will be our fourth,” he said proudly.
As I mumbled my congratulations, Jane slapped Jason on the back. “Number four?” she said. “I guess you’re not shooting any blanks!” And I wanted to crawl away.
I debated if I should try to have a talk with Jane, but the problem is she is blissfully ignorant of the effect she has on people. She is not malicious, nor purposefully insensitive , she just does not have the same verbal filters the rest of us do.
As I dithered internally I saw our client Clarice approaching with another woman who I did not know. Jane and I have always been very fond of Clarice , and we each gave her a hug. “And who is this lovely lady?” Jane said to Clarice, who is 50-ish. “Is this your Mother?” One glance at the expression on Clarice’s friend’s face told me this was not remotely true. “I am two years younger than Clarice,” said the friend stonily.
“Really?” said Jane, wide-eyed. “You should stay out of the sun.”
Eventually we made our way to the bar where Jane ordered a glass of wine and I ordered a Diet Coke. The bartender smiled, displaying a missing front tooth. “Tip him well,” Jane instructed me loudly, “so he can buy a new tooth.”
The bartender and I stared at Jane in mute disbelief. “Good teeth aren’t cheap, are they, Bro?” Jane asked. I overtipped the bartender and we walked off.
We made our way through the crowd and Ileana, Jason’s pregnant wife, came over to see us. “Congratulations!“ I said hurriedly, determined not to let Jane speak. “When are you due?”
“Six more weeks,” said Ileana.
Jane gave her a sincere hug. “That’s wonderful!” said Jane. “And a change-of-life baby is always a blessing!”
Ileana was not amused “I’m 38,” she said shortly.
Jane smiled, “Well before you know it you’ll be hot-flashing and have a mustache like Josef Stalin,” she said.
Ileana gave Jane a withering look and turned away without a word.
“What’s her problem?” said Jane. “Was it something I said?”