Judging a Book by its Cover and a Wine by its Label

I try not to judge.

I have opinions that I try not to speak or at the very least, carefully speak them if push comes to shove. I treat people the way I want to be treated; do unto others and all that.

I sometimes screw this up.

Well, I’ve come to find myself on both sides of this fence. First, at our most recent trek to Tremont, we found ourselves enthralled and face to face with a room full of one artist’s work – and one semi-toothed (or semi- toothless depending on how you look at it) man hunched in boredom in a chair. Did we actually happen upon the artist himself?

Secretly I had hoped we had not. There was no excitement, no passion, and no interaction. He could not have wanted to be there less! Dressed in an old dingy shirt and pants, I just could not accept this was the talented artist we had hoped to meet.

A highly energetic chatty woman, dressed more appropriately, was busying herself with a table display. She was talking about the artist which seemed quite odd since he was sitting right there in the lone chair. He listened to her intently. Then he just sort of gazed around the room, not caring one way or the other as to who entered, exited, chatted or purchased.

“Will the artist be making an appearance this evening?”

(Said a very savvy girl while I swallowed the lump in my throat)

“Yes,” came the reply, “ later this evening.”

OK. The passionless man in the chair is not the artist. We don’t know who he is and we never find out. At this point, I find myself secretly sorry for so many things. I’m sorry I judged him with disappointment. I’m sorry I said he was passionless when maybe he was just tired from a long, hard days’ work. I’m sorry he’s not the artist and that he will never see a penny of the profits (and therefore I am not “guilted “ into buying any of it). I smile at him and say goodnight as we leave. He doesn’t acknowledge me and that seems perfectly appropriate.

And then it was my turn.

I met with an admissions specialist at a tech school for geeks. I am a geek – in progress. I am also a blond (by bottle, not by birth). This should not be important – at all – but it is.

Imagine my surprise when my “geekiness” is called into question by a male admissions specialist who plainly tells me, “You seem nice. You don’t look like a “techie.” You’re a little overdressed for us.” So I’m thinking, “techies” are not nice and, I have no idea what one is supposed to look like but it’s definitely not like me, and apparently they don’t wear black pants, a maroon shirt, and a black blazer? (Yes, THAT black blazer)! I resist the urge to walk out. I resist the urge to slap him, or at the very least, make him feel inferior (like I felt). I resist the urge to tell him how wrong it is for him to judge me before letting me speak (been there...done that. Oh - He later refers to his wife as an “Italian Princess” who has to have perfect hair. This is a weird admissions interview, right?)

I stare at him for a moment as I silently reflect on taking the high road. Then I smile at him and tilt my head, roll my eyes, narrow my gaze and look directly into his eyes, with mine squinted, add the furrowed brow, and say, “I get that all the time. I find it amusing. Look, I’m a geek. So either you’ll work with me or you won’t.” I get as far as “So either…” when he starts laughing and says, “I’m so glad you said that. That you’re a geek! OK. Good, let’s talk.”

Huh?

I have to say that it didn’t make me feel any better to sit in the lobby prior to all this, and fill out paperwork while the receptionist and her cohort whispered and giggled. ) Insecurities...who needs them?)

I honestly felt that I was immediately typecast as the “dumb blond” from the minute I walked in the door. I could be wrong, but I don’t think so. Oddly enough, the “interview” went pretty well (if you can believe that), after those disparaging comments. I ended up meeting with a programmer to help me plot my courses, etc. By the end of it, I had won them over and then some. I still feel the "admissions" guy owes me an apology or something! (A discount would be nice. Geek School is expensive!)

We shook hands. I left. Then I went to push the door when I should have pulled. I think I heard those girls giggle again but it also may have proven my point – I am a geek – despite what your first impression of me was. I'm also scared of this next phase of my life.

Still, I try not to judge. I need to try harder and I’m not alone.

It was a long day.

I invited a friend over that night to share some laughs about my day (and because I needed to bounce its events off someone with some semblance of being unbiased and non-judgmental. Or I just needed someone who would agree with my entire take on the day).

My friend brought over a bottle of wine with a cool name and animal replica. I said, “Thanks. Is this one of your favorite wines?”

“Nah, I've never had it” came the reply. “I just liked the label.” (It was excellent by the way!)
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My favorite phrase today:

“Why look for solutions when the problems keep us happy?”/ Thom Jurek