I’ve had more than one run-in with ‘celebrity’, but this incident was my first. A few years ago, I was working in an office and answered the phone. When I realised with whom I was speaking, I experienced a ‘gulp’ moment where time slowed enough for ‘I really don’t want to be dealing with this’ to pass through my mind. I had heard enough ‘rumours’ to square my shoulders and straighten my spine, preparing for a not-very-nice-guy. Still, I am, if nothing else, generous, prepared to give anyone the benefit of the proverbial doubt… in this instance, short-lived. The moment of good grace passed with the first words to come out of his mouth, the ‘conversation’ something like this:
“Get ****** *******.”
“I’m sorry, she’s not at her desk right…”
“I want to speak to her.”
“… now. Maybe I can help, or take a message?”
“I am ******* **** so Go.Get.Her.Right.Nowwwwww.”
My cognitive reasoning instantly translated this to: “I’m a toffee-nosed blowhole who expects the world to bow instantly to my every whim. I’m so full of my self-importance, I kiss my reflection first thing in the morning and last thing at night because no one else is good enough to kiss me, at all… except maybe my feet, when they are down there grovelling.”
I went to fetch the person in question (the toilet of all places) because it was my job and because unfortunately she was on the other side of a similar coin. They deserved to work together. She had the art of obsequiousness down pat when it served. Alas, in the real world, people-management escaped her skill set.
“You got the photocopying done?” she asked one morning, staring at the pile in my arms. “You got it done ‘today’?”
“Yes,” I replied, somewhat puzzled.
“However did you manage that? ***** never does the photocopying for me that quickly. She sometimes makes me wait days.”
To clarify, some offices have had photocopying departments, particularly if they regularly sent a lot of duplicate documents or leaflets .
How did I get my photocopying done in a blink where this other person couldn’t? Compare her, “Get this done,” to my “Good morning, *****. How are you today? How’s your daughter?” In reply, I’d listen (and I mean pay attention) to how well the woman’s daughter was doing, how proud she was of the young girl’s latest achievements, all of which swiftly concluded with, “I’ll put your work up next.”
No, I did not wish this woman a good morning in order to get my photocopying. Her doing so was an amazing bonus, but that was not in my mind the first time I said hello, or when I asked how she was. It’s called respect and being polite. I didn’t see her as the ‘photocopying woman’, as did so many. I saw her as someone deserving the same regard as anyone — a lesson the other two people of this blog could have done with learning before anyone gave them a job.
No one is more important than anyone else. If I were famous, I would not expect someone to hurry off the toilet barring a life or death situation (that call… was it important? No, not at all). I wouldn’t turn up without warning and expect to jump the queue. It’s a crazy world where a recognisable name or face expects preferential treatment, particularly if it’s to the detriment of others. It’s odd we give such care, not on a nurse who maybe saved a life that day, but on people (famous or not) who treat others with rudeness and arrogance. Respect should be earned. The person who does the photocopying or served coffee that morning, are all the same. My father served coffee for a time, and though he might have ended up in the Tower of London, had the Queen turned up, he would have expected her to pay and to wait in line. He would have been polite, he would have been respectful, but he did not like any individual having privilege over another. Maybe the picture he painted with this declaration was more allegorical than actual, but, as a child, that was something I would have been tickled to see. I never knew if he exaggerated, but the principle sure stuck in my mind.
