My sister is 35. She looks younger than she is. She also has two very small children.
I am 42. I flatter myself I do not look that much older than my age. I have grown children.
Today in Relief Society, the counselor was introducing visitors, and she came to me. "Are you Amy's mother?" she asked.
"I'm her sister, actually," I said. There was a nervous titter about the room. The woman looked chagrined. Then I guess she felt she had to make it up to me, so she decided to act really interested in me and my life. She asked a number of questions. Where was I from? How long were we here? Were we flying or driving? etc. For a moment I thought about making some kind of rude retort, and then this story came to mind.
When I was about 20, I went to a concert, given by my piano teacher. I noticed that the person behind me was talking about my teacher as if she knew her intimately, so I turned around and introduced myself. "Are you her mother?" I asked. She looked embarrassed, and told me she was actually my teacher's sister. Then I looked embarrassed, and apologized profusely. Then she taught me this profound truth: You can never go wrong by asking a woman if she is the sister. If she turns out to be the mother, she will be flattered. If not, you won't have offended her.
I've kept that in mind over the last 22 years, and it's saved me from embarrassment more than once. When the Relief Society woman was trying to save herself this morning, I briefly thought about sharing that experience with her--or at least imparting my wisdom. But I didn't. I just smiled benignly, and thought about how lucky I was to have learned that lesson when I was young. Too bad this woman hadn't had the opportunity to be taught in her youth (which, from the looks of things, was a really long time ago) by loving and insightful people as I had.
Also, I deserved it. Consider it poetic justice. My debt has now been paid.
But wait! Hadn't I already paid it six years ago? Suddenly I was remembering another story.
I was in the temple, getting ready to be married to daltonboy. My sister was with me. The two of us were led over to a little table, where the names of all the people who were to be married that day were on little stickers. Apparently the stickers would help the other temple workers know who we were and how to direct us. The nice temple worker showed us the stickers, and told my sister that one of them was for the bride, and the other (nodding toward me) was for her escort. My sister took the bride sticker and handed it to me. The worker took the sticker from me and gave it back to my sister, patiently explaining that that particular sticker was for the bride. I took the sticker again, saying, "I'm the bride."
"No, you're not," the worker said, taking the sticker from me again, and handing me the escort sticker. "This sticker is for you. The bride wears this sticker."
"Right," I said. "I'm the bride."
My sister was looking confused. The worker looked exasperated.
"You're the bride's mother," she said. "You're the escort. You wear this sticker."
Finally I understood what was going on. I said, speaking very slowly, and pointing to myself, "Actually, I'm getting married today. This is my sister. She is already married. She is my escort."
And then the woman was thoroughly confused and most embarrassed. I was too excited and happy to even care at the time, but looking back on it, it makes me laugh.
Sheesh. Last week when I went to church, everyone told me I looked a lot younger with my new haircut. I wonder what would have happened if I had shown up here today with my old 'do. "Excuse me, are you Amy's grandma?"
I won't be visiting my sister again anytime soon if this is the way I'm going to be treated. She should let this be a lesson to her, and take this opportunity to dye her hair gray, start smoking, and spend a lot of time in the sun.
Hmph.
9 comments:
Okay, you never told me the wedding story before. That was awesome.
I love you - and I think that when we are together, people think we're the same age. So, I have come to the conclusion that your sister must look freakishly young (like 17) and that you are still beautiful and perfect.
I can't wait to see the new 'do. I promise not to tell you if it makes you look 55.
BTW - I have a really funny/slightly disturbing story about my first trip to the temple. I was 12, and we were doing baptisms. The woman handing out the clothes asked my bra size, which I was too embarassed to immediately say out loud (32AAA, anyone?) so she just felt my chest so she could make an educated guess. EEEEK!
I know you didn't intend it, but this is kind of another customer service story. I like the theme around here of late.
For the Yzma look--don't forget the spinach in the teeth. :)
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If it matters, I didn't think you were that old.
OH MY GOSH! Your wedding day story was great. I can add it to my small, but growing collection of "female temple workers who are not attentive and/or crazy" stories.
Every time my mother comes with me to church, at my ward, people always ask if she is my older sister. This is a wonderful compliment for her (my mother really does look younger than her true age, her skin is great because she has never been one to stay out in the sun) but it always makes me wonder if I look really old.
Nat: Why do you have so many disturbing stories?
Noelle: I always have spinach in my teeth. And DB is always saying, "What the? How long has THAT been there?"
Th.: At this point, it matters. Thanks.
Lady S: You don't. Especially with your new glasses.
42?!? Are you sure? Having seen you, I naturally assumed that the teenagers posing as your children were rented for ambience, or perhaps adopted.
In fact, I'm still sticking to that theory, but now have enhanced it with this: Sometimes verbal artists of your high caliber aren't very good at math. "Not that there's anything wrong with that." (If this turns out to be the case, it should in no way diminish your well-deserved self-esteem, of course. As I understand modern math educators, correct answers to math problems are just so last century, anyway.)
DR: I checked and double-checked it with my HP scientific calculator.
2006 - 1964 = 42.
My parents aren't very good at math either, but I clearly remember Apollo 13, so I'm guessing they may have told the truth about the year of my birth. Also, my birth certificate appears to be accurate (no White Out).
But thanks!
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