How I was Re-Schooled in the Art of Conversation

It was one of those mornings. I had to get up at an inhumane hour to get ready for an early meeting downtown, get dressed, gulp one day old coffee, fight traffic, find parking… You get the picture. I got there on time, thank goodness. Just as I was entering the building, I received a text from my client saying that she’s running a few minutes behind. By the time I got to the front desk to have the security guard call up to announce me, I was done!

He picked up the phone, matter-of-factly, and called up to my client’s office. After putting down the receiver, he looked passed me and said: “She’ll be down in a few minutes.”

“Why did you speak to me in English when I addressed you in French?” I shot back. I had heard him speak French to the person in front of me. I thought I was being courteous by engaging him in his first language, which also happens to be mine.                                       

I’m not sure why this irritated me so much. Was he assuming I spoke English because of my skin color? Did he not hear me?

We talked for about 10 minutes before my client appeared. By that time I wanted to stay with my ‘grumpy old man’ and listen to more of his storied life, but duty called.