Confession is good for the soul

A couple of weeks ago, I realized something rather unpleasant about myself, and determined to use my heightened awareness to change my behaviour.

I also thought "I'm going to blog about this!"

When I was mulling it over this morning, I thought again, "I'm going to blog about this!" and then I thought, "Did I already blog about this? What if I already blogged about this and I blog about it again? My blog readers would look at me like my kids look at me when I tell the same story for the second tenth time."

Oh come on, you know the look - a mixture of equal parts:

• Disgust at my inability to remember things
• Mild pity for the middle-aged woman who's losing her marbles (obviously she's nutty, what would you expect from someone who wears pants that ALMOST TOUCH HER BELLYBUTTON?)
• A bemused smile at having ended up with a mother who's going to be a major PITA when she's a senile senior, but that'll be that nice nursing home's problem, won't it?

Digresssion: One time, Middle came home and her sisters told her, "While you were out, we talked about it and took a vote. You get to take care of mom and dad when they're old."

ANYWAY.

I seriously don't recall sharing my shame here, and am too lazy to check my archives. So here is my dark and dirty secret, the thing I was dismayed to realize about my very own self:

I raise my voice when conversing with people for whom English is not their first language.

Isn't that horrible? I'm a child of a modern time, an urban dweller, raised and educated in a mosaic of cultures and languages. I have spent my whole life coming into contact with, and interacting with people who are not native English speakers. These are not people whose English skills are poor - these are educated, professional individuals who are doing a stellar job of communicating in a tongue that they've worked hard to master.

And I shout at them, just because they have an accent, or are a little slower to pick up on some idioms.

hangs head in shame

It's entirely unconscious, and with this new self-awareness, I'm working on it. I don't want to be a horrible person.

Comments

[Angelica]

The pants do touch your belly button. And I usually only wear a look of disgust when you tuck in shirts with said pants.

[Angela Klocke]

Oh yeah? Well, I turn into a bumbling idiot when I try to converse with the deaf. Not only do I get louder, because everyone knows the deaf CAN hear if only you speak louder, but I move my hands in a way that is SO NOT sign language, and I move my lips in a way that make deaf people look at me weird because they can no longer read my lips.

I just realized I did it when trying to help a customer order the other night. Turns out, he was just fine - and already prepared! - to write down his order for me.

[MadWomanMeg]

It's when you start to speak louder AND slower that you begin to have a problem. And when you transfer this over to deaf people as well, then you need to committed. Or beaten with a dead fish. Either way.

[Angela Klocke]

You know...blogging is also good for the soul.