Why do so many who live a life of privilege assume they’re entitled to more, and that they are above following certain rules?

I was at the lab again today for more blood work (yes, I’m ok, just getting my iron levels checked to ensure I’m not anemic). There were several signs posted both outside on the door and in various places of the waiting room forbidding the use of cell phones. There was an older man sitting a couple seats away from me, dressed in a suit and with a stethescope resting on his lap. The waiting area was small enough that I could hear parts of his conversation with the woman next to him, I assume a colleague or his wife, about dialing in on a conference call for a patient of his. He proceeded to do so… with his phone on speaker mode.

Almost immediately after the recording for the conference line started, the clerk behind the desk stood up and said, “Excuse me, sir, but cell phone use is not allowed in here.”

The man said, quite annoyed, “I’m a doctor and this is an urgent call.”

Clerk, still professional in her demanor: “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to step out in the hallway.”

The doctor stands up and walks to the counter, he lowers his voice and mumbles something that doesn’t make its way clearly to my ears. However, the clerk still responds in a tone loud enough that I can hear, “I’m sorry, but it’s company policy so you must step out into the hallway.”

At this point, I’m watching and listening intently - along with the five others in the room.

The doctor says, “Fine, then I will use one of your phones,” and starts to walk around and behind the desk. This whole time, his phone is still on speaker mode.

The clerk at this point is becoming annoyed, and rightfully so in my opinion. She raises her voice noticeably to stop him from proceeding completely around the desk and says, “The best I can do is place the phone on the counter for you to use, but you cannot come back here.”

I guess that wasn’t enough for the good doctor, so he walked out in somewhat of a huff and conducted his business in the hall.

I could be wrong, but from my perspective, the doctor seemed to think because he was a medical professional, he was removed from the rules set forth by the lab. Clearly the call wasn’t a private matter if he was going to conduct it right there in the lobby, so I see his lack of consideration of those around him and the disregard of the company’s policy as he felt he was entitled to something more.

Sadly, it’s nothing new.

Current Mood: Awake

Stereotype #1: Because I dress in mens clothing, I must be a dyke.
Stereotype #2: Because I make no effort to look feminine, I must be a dyke.

Ok, so these stereotypes are true. I have no issues with these “labels” at all.

I know many people who are completely against labels and stereotypes in general, but the reality for me is, stereotypes are everywhere and sometimes necessary for proper classification and/or description of someone or something. In the lesbian world you have (to name just several): butch, femme, soft-butch, androgynous, futch (a mix between butch and femme but contrary to current popular belief, Tila Tequila did not coin this term, she just brought it into the spotlight with the Dani Campbell craze).

Alas, this post isn’t about gay or lesbian stereotypes in particular, I just felt mentioning them was a good way to lead into talking about stereotypes and how even me, a “stereotypical dyke,” relies on them, wrong or right.

About a month ago I was waiting for a friend outside of a bar/pool place in downtown DC. I was in the middle of texting another friend but noticed a man several hundred feet away and walking in my general direction. In my quick assessment, I also noticed he was slightly swaying in his walk and was carrying a brown paper bag covering a bottle of some sort. He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt that weren’t exactly filthy, but weren’t freshly laundered, either.

Assumed stereotype #1 and #2: This guy is probably homeless and that bottle is most likely full of alcohol. (I assumed this because the area in which I was has a few “parks” that attract the homeless who beg the business people for money. It’s a good plan, in all honesty, but this detail will also help explain my next assumed stereotype.)

I stayed focused on my texting and before I knew it this guy was passing by me but had slowed considerably in his pace. He then stopped and opened his mouth to speak to me.

Assumed stereotype #3 led me to say, before he said anything to me at all: “Sorry, but I don’t have any spare change.”

His back went rigid and he said, rather indignantly, “I wasn’t going to ask you for money.”

So, I immediately apologized and explained I had been asked by two people in three mere blocks for some change and I assumed his intentions were the same. He then went on to point at his labret and ask me about my piercing, if it hurt, why I got it, etc. I answered his questions and, for lack of a better word, we chatted for about a minute. His speech wasn’t overly slurred, but I did get a glimpse at the bottle protruding from the bag and have no doubt it was some brand of whiskey.

He walked off, I finished my text and continued waiting for my friend, who had texted she was running late. This gave enough time for the guy to actually walk back and pass me again. I met his gaze as he looked at me. He pointed at me, smiled and said, “no more assumptions, okay?”

All in all, there’s no way of knowing if I was wrong, or if I caught him off guard enough by speaking first and he simply lied about his intentions… and because of that, I’m torn between admitting I stereotyped him incorrectly or if I was indeed right. :huh:

Current Mood: Doubtful/Skeptical

I’ve been meaning to blog about a couple events from a week ago last Wednesday that are still resonating with me. This will be a lengthy post but worth the read, hopefully.

I was in a hurry leaving work due to a scheduled workout at the gym with my exercise buddy. We like to start at the same time so we can kind of “carry” each other through the 45 minutes of cardio we do. As you can imagine, the workout goes much faster than when you’re by yourself.

As I entered the metro station, I could hear the train just finish pulling into the station and noticed the wait for the next train was nearly 10 minutes. Sure, I could have waited, but didn’t really want to. So, I hurried to the escalator but was immediately stuck behind a trio of teenage guys. Two standing on the right and one on the left, blocking what would have been my smooth descent and successful entry onto the train.

I had my earphones in and my mp3 player playing, but not so loud that I couldn’t hear myself politely say, “Excuse me guys, I need to catch this train.”

I was quite stunned when the guy standing on the left just looked at me and looked away, not budging an inch. I think this set off some short fuse I didn’t realize I had that day, because in the heat of that moment, I said, “Well, Jesus Christ, that does mean move out of the way,” and proceeded to push myself between them.

Because my music wasn’t very loud, I heard the guy on the left say, “Hey!” and then he tried to grab my backpack as I was rushing to the bottom of the steps. Apparently, I was still fired up and as I stepped off the escalator, turned around and said, “Well, I asked you nicely. What does it take to get you to move out of someone’s way?”

It was at that point I realized just how much of a precarious situation I was getting myself into. I was essentially running my mouth and provoking three decently sized guys that very easily could have come after me. I suddenly realized how quickly my heart was racing and made a split decision to cross the platform and catch the train heading in the opposite direction as it was just pulling in. I started chastising myself for opening my mouth and rode one stop in the opposite direction, praying the entire time the teenagers hadn’t followed me.

Yes, I was more than a little scared. Thankfully nothing happened. After I calmed down, though, I began reflecting (as I’ve done many times) on the lack of manners with today’s generation… Generation Z or Generation XY… whatever the hell it’s called. I think the better name would be Generation ME… because too many people in this younger generation think of nothing but themselves. I’m not saying older generations are removed from selfishness. I’m not that naive, but I’ll assume at least some of you reading this will know what I’m referring to.

Even after a good, sweaty workout and a bitch session with my exercise buddy, the negativity was still kind of sticking with me. On my metro ride home, though, I guess you could say a redemption of sorts happened.

As the train approached the stop near my house, a bike messenger stood up with his bike to also get off at the same stop. I stood up, fully prepared to exit behind him. He must have noticed my movement from the corner of his eye or something, because he looked at me and immediately took several steps back with his bike, allowing me to leave first.

I met his gaze and said, “Aw, you didn’t have to move out of the way for me.” To which he replied with a smile, “I’m a gentleman whether you want me to be or not.”

That made me smile. I touched his arm briefly and said, “Well, thank you very much, because nowadays that does seem kind of rare.”

And he simply responded, “Chivalry is not dead.”

Chivalry may not be dead, but sadly, depending on where you live - it does seem almost extinct.