Doogie
I am seriously thinking about chopping off all my hair. I've been coveting a cute little pixie cut. Or a cute little dyke cut. Or a cute little pixie dyke cut. I don't know. Something that will make me look more than 15.
This is getting OLD--no pun intended.
On Thursday morning I was supposed to have a meeting with my supervisor, the principal, and the counseling coordinator at the high school where I work. The principal and my supervisor was running late, so the counseling coordinator and I just stood around in the main office to wait for them. My supervisor often runs late, but she was really late this time; and so I decided to give her a ring to find out where she was.
No sooner did I pull out my phone and dial her than one of the secretaries barked, "YOUNG LADY!"
Now, there were several potentially misbehaving young ladies in the office. And I've met this particular secretary before. So I figured she couldn't possibly be talking to me.
"YOUNG LADY!"
Oh, but she was.
Still waiting for my supervisor to pick up, I looked over at the secretary.
"YOUNG LADY! You are on your cell phone!"
"Yes, I am," I replied. I mean, what else could I say?
She glared at me evilly.
"I'm staff," I said simply.
Still the glare.
"She's one of our therapists," said the counseling coordinator.
The glare quickly became a look of panic.
Just then my supervisor picked up. "I'm parking my car," she said. "I'll be right in."
"I'm SO sorry!" said the secretary. "I didn't mean to offend you! I hope I didn't offend you! Did I offend you?"
"I'm used to it," I replied.
"But you--I'm sorry, you look like you're 15!"
"Wanna guess when I graduated from high school?" I said. (Okay, it was kind of cruel.)
"No!" the secretary said. "I mean, no, I don't want to guess, because I'm just going to offend you more."
"I'm so not offended!" I said. "But anyway, I was in the class of 1997."
My supervisor had walked in by this point. "Oh," she said to me, "did she think you're in high school?"
"You know, it's going to be even worse after I get my degree in May," I said. "When I went back to defend my dissertation in the fall, the guy next to me on the plane got all nervous and accused me of being some kind of genius kid when I told him the purpose of my trip. Then I told him I was 25, and he softened up a bit."
But here's the thing. If I chop off my hair, I probably wouldn't be mistaken for a 15-year-old girl anymore.
But I might start being mistaken for a 15-year-old boy.
3 comments:
dude, if your cell phone is red plastic and makes silly animal noises when you press it with your toes, no wonder the lady was a tad confused as to your age.
I can tell you from experience that the short hair really doesn't make a difference. Been there, done that, everyone still thought I was 15/16. Hmm, my dog is making choking noises. Not good.
Every once in a while, I still get away with paying the student rate for lunch. This tends to happen on jeans' days when we have a substitute cashier. It makes me happy.
Earlier this year, I got reamed out by a security guard for going into the faculty room to buy a soda. I almost got written up, and if it ever happened again, I definitely would be documented.
Heh. And that day, I was wearing teacher clothes - heels and all.
Every time it happens, someone reassures me that I'll be grateful for this in ten years. Problem is that I hate being yelled at, even when it's a mistake.
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