Around town

Thursday I treated myself to a coffee shop lunch. I settled into the booth with my book, ready to be transported to wherever the author wanted to take me. But I was distracted by the drama in a nearby booth.

He was in his late 60s or early 70s. White hair, middle aged spread. She was in her early 20s, nose-ringed and tattooed. He was enjoying his lunch. She was trying to make a living. It didn't go well.

Photo by Esther Lin on Unsplash

He wanted to know her last name. He said it was because he was "into genealogy." He wanted to know how often she flew and where she vacationed, because he had been a pilot in the Army. He wanted to know how close to the restaurant her apartment was. 

She was firm and consistent. "That's not appropriate. I'm uncomfortable because you sound like a stalker." She repeated it every time he tried to make unwelcome, flirtatious small talk. 

I was proud of her. When I was her age, I went along with uninvited workplace flirting. I didn't want to be thought of as one of those "humorless feminists." I was also proud of the restaurant manager. If I could hear the ongoing exchange between server and diner, so could they, and clearly they supported her.

Friday I volunteered again in preparation for the local library book sale. Once again I overtaxed my back. But my stupidity isn't what alternately amused/annoyed me. It was the Queen of the Volunteers.

She had perfect makeup. Yoga pants and a blue/white striped blouse. Cork-heeled sandals. In short, she didn't appear ready to perform physical labor. And she didn't. A member of Friends of the Library board, she mostly gossiped with the real volunteer coordinator and hovered, ready to tell us what we were doing wrong.

Trust me on this: there wasn't much we could do wrong. We were taking already categorized books (I first handled cookbooks, then I moved on to mysteries/thrillers) and put them in packing boxes. Then we labeled the boxes with black markers. It was an important chore and I was happy to help but an advanced degree was not required. 

One year ago today I was creating content for a client who has a $600,000,000 advertising budget. There were actual consequences to creative decisions I made. And speaking of consequential jobs, there are doctors, dentists, cops, firefighters, air traffic controllers ... Nothing this officious woman did Friday mattered. 

I thought it was funny that she thought I needed assistance to sort and pack. If she really wanted to help, she would have offered to help me lift the full boxes and slide them under the table! I thought it was sad that she got dressed up to come over to the library to be bossy with volunteers she should just be thanking. Most of all, I thought I never want to be her. I never want my self-worth to become so tenuous that I have to be high-handed to feel important.