1957 vs. 2014: The Truth

Sometimes I don’t feel bad when I don’t open e-mails from my Dad, but a lot of times it’s just a conservative forward. I don’t know what possessed me to open the e-mail tonight, but here’s what it said (I don’t know the original source):

By today’s standards none of us were supposed to ever make it.

HIGH SCHOOL — 1957 vs. 2014Scenario 1:

Jack goes duck hunting before school and then pulls into the school parking lot with his shotgun in his truck’s gun rack.

1957 – Vice Principal comes over, looks at Jack’s shotgun, goes to his car and gets his shotgun to show Jack.

2014 – School goes into lock down, FBI called, Jack hauled off to jail and never sees his truck or gun again. Counselors called in for traumatized students and teachers.

Johnny and Mark get into a fist fight after school.

1957 – Crowd gathers. Mark wins. Johnny and Mark shake hands and end up buddies.

2014 – Police called and SWAT team arrives — they arrest both Johnny and Mark. They are both charged with assault and both expelled – even though Johnny started it.

Scenario 3:

Jeffrey will not be still in class, he disrupts other students. (We’re going to ignore the fact that this should be a semicolon and not a comma.)

1957 – Jeffrey sent to the Principal’s office and given a good paddling by the Principal. He then returns to class, sits still and does not disrupt class again.

2014 – Jeffrey is given huge doses of Ritalin. He becomes a zombie. He is then tested for ADD. The family gets extra money (SSI) from the government because Jeffrey has a disability.

Scenario 4:

Billy breaks a window in his neighbor’s car and his Dad gives him a whipping with his belt.

1957 – Billy is more careful next time, grows up normal, goes to college and becomes a successful businessman.

2014 – Billy’s dad is arrested for child abuse, Billy is removed to foster care and joins a gang. The state psychologist is told by Billy’s sister that she remembers being spanked herself, and their dad goes to prison. Billy’s mom has an affair with the psychologist.

Scenario 5:

Mark gets a headache and takes some aspirin to school.

1957 – Mark shares his aspirin with the Principal out on the smoking dock.

2014 – The police are called and Mark is expelled from school for drug violations. His car is then searched for drugs and weapons.

Scenario 6:

Pedro fails high school English.

1957 – Pedro goes to summer school, passes English and goes to college.

2014 – Pedro’s cause is taken up by state. Newspaper articles appear nationally explaining that teaching English as a requirement for graduation is racist. ACLU files class action lawsuit against the state school system and Pedro’s English teacher. English is then banned from core curriculum. Pedro is given his diploma anyway but ends up mowing lawns for a living because he cannot speak English.

Scenario 7:

Johnny takes apart leftover firecrackers from the Fourth of July, puts them in a model airplane paint bottle and blows up a red ant bed.

1957 – Ants die.

2014 – ATF, Homeland Security and the FBI are all called. Johnny is charged with domestic terrorism. The FBI investigates his parents – and all siblings are removed from their home and all computers are confiscated. Johnny’s dad is placed on a terror watch list and is never allowed to fly again.

Scenario 8:

Johnny falls while running during recess and scrapes his knee. He is found crying by his teacher, Mary. Mary hugs him to comfort him.

1957 – In a short time, Johnny feels better and goes on playing.

2014- Mary is accused of being a sexual predator and loses her job. She faces 3 years in State Prison. Johnny undergoes 5 years of therapy.

Some of these are more exaggerated than others, but the message is clear: We live in a world that’s unnecessarily more complicated than it used to be. This is a primary message among conservatives, who would prefer to return to these “uncomplicated” times. However, what they typically forget is how much good progress has been made. The problem with nostalgia is that we really only tend to remember the good shit, and forget the bad.

I had to respond:

You missed a few: 

 1957 – Tyrone can’t go to the same school as Johnny because Tyrone is black and Johnny is white. 

 2014 – Tyrone and Johnny text each other during class about the cute girl who sits in front of them in Calculus. 

 (I’m well aware that Brown v. The Board of Education predates 1957, but Jim Crow didn’t die overnight). 


 1957 – Sheila gets married and is forced to drop out of all school activities because the school policy precludes married students from participating. 

 2014 – Sheila has other options aside from getting married, and if she did choose to get married, couldn’t be discriminated against because marital status is now a protected class.


 1957 – Tommy admits to the school counselor that he might have romantic attraction to other boys; the school counselor recommends to Tommy’s parents that he be committed to a mental institution because homosexuality is still considered abnormal psychology. Tommy gets electric shock therapy.

 2014 – The school counselor congratulates Tommy on his courage and refers him to a GLBT resource group. 


 1957 – Rhonda gets made fun of for being chubby. She tells the Principal about it, who encourages her to take diet pills to lose weight or grow a “thicker skin”. Rhonda hangs herself in her bedroom, but her obituary says she slipped in the bathtub. 

 2014 – Rhonda’s principal has received training on how to deal with both bullying situations and body image counseling and takes appropriate action.


 1957 – Jasmine falls behind in math because she can’t see the board well enough to copy down lessons. Jasmine gets called a dunce by the teacher.

 2014 – The teacher wonders if Jasmine might need glasses and sends her to the school nurse. 


  1957 – Dexter gets hit by the teacher with a ruler because the teacher overhears him speaking Yupik with his classmate instead of English. 

 2014 – Dexter’s teacher and classmates take an interest in Dexter during a unit on Alaska History and think it’s cool Dexter knows a language that was spoken in Western Alaska for more than a thousand years before European contact.

*drops mic*

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Memories of Working at Nordstrom

So I was just at Nordstrom buying something for a holiday gift exchange. And I’m always nice to the people working there, because I used to work there and it’s pure hell sometimes. And not just regular retail hell, where 60% of your job is looking busy and the other 40% is trying to forget how much your feet hurt, it’s like extra super special retail hell, where there’s a whole other mess of legendary culture thrown in.

The first fun thing about working at Nordstrom is the complete lack of a policy for just about anything. Of course, there are real policies like the ones you have to have about sexual harassment and pay administration and those kinds of things, but otherwise, everybody just uses their good judgement. Which really means everybody makes shit up all the time.

In Fashion Jewelry you had to size and colorize all the merchandise. That I didn’t mind; it was kind of fun. Sizes with like sizes, colors with like colors, cool beans. When you close, you have to make sure your department is gorgeous for the folks who come in to open in the morning. Everything is sized and colorized, straightened, dusted, the glass counters wiped down, everything put away neatly in its place. No problem. Except I started coming in and the Manager would have conversations with me like:

“Nicola* said the Department was messy when she opened this morning and you closed last night so would you like to explain why?”

“What was messy? How could I have done it better? Can you show me?”

“She didn’t specify, she just said it was messy. Don’t leave the department messy.”

“In order to do that I really need more specifics.”

“Go ask Nicola.”

“Hey, Nicola, Laura told me you said I left a messy department. What was messy so I can make sure I don’t do it again?”

“Oh, it was just messy. Like, jewelry just thrown in boxes and stuff. You shouldn’t leave the department messy.”

“Can you show me where, specifically?”

“No, I fixed it. Don’t leave the department messy.”

Thanks, bitch.

Rinse and repeat several times until I get so frustrated I ask the Manager on Duty to come over and inspect my department before I leave for the evening. She says it looks fine, and if Laura has any questions, she can come ask her about it. Sure enough, the next morning, the department’s messy again, and it’s my fault.

“I asked the MOD to come inspect it last night and she said it looked fine, you can go ask her about it.”

“It’s not her department; she doesn’t know our standards.”

Nobody does! They’re not written down! Nothing’s written down!

“And sometimes the vacuums bump the cases overnight and things fall out of place.”

“Then maybe you need to go yell at the vacuums.”


Another fun thing about Nordstrom’s lack of set policies is the lack of a return policy. As a customer, it’s great – if I get two pairs of gloves for Christmas and one sits in my car for three months while I keep forgetting to return it, no biggie – I can take it back and get my money back. Now, this may have changed, but in 2005 Nordstrom would openly flout credit card covenants in favor of their customers. If a customer wanted us to, we give cash for returns on credit card purchases, we could give credit card credits for returns on cash purchases, we could even give credit card credits for items purchased on other credit cards.

Now this was loads of fun for employees, because your sales and commission are net sales less returns. The way the store explained it, on a macro level, was that customers who bring a return back to the store leave with sales x dollar amount in excess of the value of their return. Which is super when you’re averaging returns across your hundreds of stores, but when it’s a huge return that wrecks your entire day, week, or paycheck, it’s not such a fun, uplifting statistic. In fact, our store was famous for a return a sales person once took on a set of tires that had been sold to a customer before Nordstrom had bought the store from the original owner, who did sell tires.

Fashion Jewelry was one of the worst, because Fashion Jewelry looks great at an event and unlike shoes or clothing, you can’t really tell if it’s been worn. I quickly learned to ask “Are you in the wedding, or are you going to the wedding?” If they were in the wedding, they were more likely (but not always) shopping for keeps. If they were going to the wedding, you’d almost be guaranteed a return as soon as the wedding was over. In fact, the whole “I need something to wear to an event” opener was cause to flee. I once spent an hour helping a lady pick out a necklace to wear to a wedding that I was convinced she loved and would wear forever. Two weeks later I found it back on the rack with the sale record sticker taken back off.

There were limits to returns, but it varied. Strangely, Fine Jewelry would accept returns on most items except engagement rings. Cosmetics would accept just about anything (in our initial class the trainer once explained why she gladly accepted a return on a completely empty bottle of perfume) I’m not sure how true this is, but the salespeople in Women’s Shoes used to tell me that they wouldn’t accept returns on shoes if they’d been worn even once (although buyer’s remorse had a lot of women returning unworn shoes, apparently) and they’d quickly quote the statistic that a shoe was really only good for about six months of continuous wear before it needed to be replaced. I believe Children’s Shoes and Clothing were also tighter on returns (nope, you can’t return it just because your child grows out of it).

I think returns are slightly different now. There were a couple instances where I couldn’t verify whether a return had been purchased at Nordstrom, and the MOD would come down to help figure out where it came from – they’d refuse returns sometimes if they seemed shady. Another situation where they would refuse returns were customers who returned a lot of items for cash. There was one lady who would routinely come into fashion jewelry and buy things and then return them the next day for cash. This is of course impossible to verify but another employee told me her husband restricted the amount of cash she could get, but he paid the Nordstrom bill every month without looking at it, so she’d get her cash, and he never seemed to notice she never had anything from Nordstrom to show for the credit card bill he kept paying. Loss Prevention eventually caught on and sent her a letter saying we would only accept returns back to the original form of payment or to a gift card in the future.

While I worked there a new point of sale system was also introduced, which would make it easier to track where purchases came from to ensure the returns would be correctly attributed. The general feeling I got was that returns were being watched more closely. A few months after I left, a relative and a friend both bought me the same bottle of cologne for Christmas. I got them at separate times and had already unwrapped one and thrown the box out when I got a larger one that I wanted to keep. So I took the smaller bottle back to Nordstrom to return it. The sales lady behind the counter recognized me but seemed to think since I had worked there I was somehow trying to pull a scam when I had gotten it as a gift. She wanted to know the purchase date and form of payment – I called my friend and he uncomfortably explained he had paid cash. She kept persisting and a manager from another department who recognized me came over and told the sales lady to take the return anyway.

Some returns used to go to Customer Service, but the last couple of times I’ve been in Nordstrom that department has disappeared. When I worked there they used to firmly suggest you go down to the department you’d purchased the item from (people were less likely to return items if they had to face the salesperson they’d bought it from, knowing full well they work on commission; now they don’t really have a choice). Even with Customer Service the gals in Women’s Fragrances used to complain they took the brunt of the “quickie” returns, because their department was right by the front door.

Not all of the returns were bogus. One that I had a lot of sympathy for was in watches – some say waterproof, some say water resistant. I got a lot of water resistant watches back with water damage because people thought they were waterproof and they weren’t. But those were usually easy – an “in and out” replace it with a new one at the same value, return the damaged one to the vendor. No effect on the commission.

Now, I worked there over a decade ago, but I know some things haven’t changed. And there are some things other Nordstrom alums and I agree on – working at Nordstrom makes you tough. At a job I had where workers were new to the idea of having their performance stats posted publicly (and there was significant whining) a fellow Nordstrom escapee and I had a good laugh. Your sales numbers are more important than your name at Nordstrom, and everybody knows exactly what you’re doing. It becomes the stuff of legend. I’d have folks from other departments come up to my counter and say “So, I heard you got a $500 return today.”

Still, I managed to find my niche. One lady would keep coming back to me because I didn’t lay on the hard sell. She’d browse and pick out something she liked, then she’d bring it over to me. We’d have a nice brief chat while I rang her up, and then she’d leave. During the big sales she’d bring me things from various departments all over the store and then keep shopping and bring more stuff back later because she didn’t like to be followed and fussed over and basically bothered while she was shopping.

During training they tell you that the entire store is yours to sell. True, but not true. Good luck getting into the stock room for either men’s or women’s shoes (with good reason – they don’t want you putting stuff where it doesn’t go) or behind any of the cosmetics counters (much for the same reason). You also don’t have the key to any of the dressing rooms so that’s also pretty much out of the question. In addition to items from my department, I’d get lots of grab-and-go items from the sale rack in accessories or Hosiery.

There’s also a lot of hubris, especially when your sales are good. At the time, Nordstrom was touting itself as a trendsetter, or someone people would go to for advice on what was hot in fashion. In 2005 the hot trends in Fashion Jewelry were lots of clunky arm candy bracelets, bohemian satchel bags, and anything with “Juicy” written on it. Which was fine, for the fashion forward folks, but the the ladies who wanted a plain freshwater pearl necklace and matching earrings or a plain watch with one of those curiously stretchy metal wristbands instead of some flashy diamond Michele Watch there didn’t seem to be much respect, even though they accounted for most of our business. Several men told me they refused to shop in Men’s Clothing because the sales folks there were so arrogant. I didn’t know what they meant until one day I went over there and was chatting with one of the guys about fashion and he told me about how he’d recommended a black suit, black shirt, and black tie for a customer going to a job interview.

“A job interview for what, a night club promoter?”

“No, I don’t know what kind of job it was.”

“Oh, ok – I was just curious, because the conventional wisdom for a job interview is to wear more neutral colors – all that black can be off-putting, especially if the employer is a bit more conservative.”

“Says who?”

“That’s from a keynote speech from a subject matter expert on business interviewing.”

“They’re not fashion experts. I am. Customers come to me because they want to know what fashion is.”

“Call me crazy, but unless he’s interviewing for a job at Nordstrom, I’d have gone with the interviewing expert’s advice.”


There was plenty of fun with simple communication, too. Soon after the new POS system was introduced, which everybody loved because you could credit separate items of merchandise to different employees in the same transaction, rather than having to ring everything separately if a customer had been helped by more than one person. I was reviewing my sales one day, and I noticed that an employee in Men’s Clothing had done it incorrectly. The customer had purchased a $700 suit jacket and about $50 worth of items from my department, but the employee had credited the $700 suit jacket to me and the $50 to herself.

I went over to let her know to fix it so she could get the credit for the items from her department. You would have thought I was speaking another language.

“What do you mean?”

“The suit jacket rang up under me, when it should have rang up under you. I’m letting you know so you can fix it and get the credit for your sale.”

“No, I sold the suit jacket.”

“I know you did, but you rang up the items from my department for yourself, and you rang up the suit jacket for me, so if you return them and switch the suit jacket to you and the items from my department to me we’ll each get credit for what we sold.”

“How did that happen? I sold the suit jacket! That’s my sale!”

“I’m fully aware of that, which is why I’m here letting you know so you can fix it, because I can’t.”

“Oh I WILL!*snatches receipt from my hand*

“Do you want me to help?”

She did it exactly the same way the second time, but I didn’t bother to go back and correct her.


Lots it was fun, however. A lot of the people I worked with were a kick in the pants. It was a small town, so I’d see somebody I knew come through the store almost every day. I made some pretty fast friends. Getting food from the cafe for lunch was fun, and relatively inexpensive with our discount, and so were coffee breaks at the espresso bar. My friend Marjie would come over and we’d talk about what “merch” we had our eye on, and we’d do the math in our heads and declare it “practically free”. We knew that “Talk me out of buying this” really meant “I’m buying this either way” and secretly wished Nordstrom would create a position for us to sit on the sky bridge drinking coffee and handing out deflating fashion advice to folks who would then feel insecure and buy more from inside the store, because we’d be awesome at it.


After a few weeks of getting yelled at for “leaving the department messy” in Fashion Jewelry, the Manager in At Home decided she wanted me to replace a girl in her department who was leaving. It sounded much better to me because it was hourly base pay plus a small commission so it wouldn’t be quite so affected by returns.

At home sold curios and crystal and dishes and dinnerware and dining tables and club chairs, bed, bedding, fake flowers, and these bespoke chocolate truffles called Nordstrom Habits. It was a lot of fun cleaning out that chocolate case because you’d get to clear out all the truffles that had been dropped on the floor or broken or cracked and take them out of inventory and “throw them away” (which meant eat them). But it also gave me an artisan sense of pride to make sure the case was just so, with its raised glass plates piled high with fragrant little balls of chocolate. It was an excuse to look busy, because the most cardinal sin in retail is to look like you don’t have anything to do; it becomes a deadly sin if you’re caught doing it behind the cash/wrap desk.

At Home seemed ok at first, because I could make the beds and rearrange the flowers and decorate the dining table and rearrange the chocolates for ever. But then I realized the manager was crazy. She had this delightful little habit of calling me “kiddo”, and I made the mistake of politely asking her to stop, because I felt it was demeaning. I was a grown up person, 23 years old, thank you very much. She agreed, but it later came out during a session where she pulled me into the stairwell to scream (literally, scream) at me for something a coworker had told her I’d said (which I hadn’t) that she didn’t care what I preferred to be called.

She also had this charming habit of interrupting me when I was talking with a customer before closing a sale and needing “something or other” from the stock room upstairs. At Nordstrom the (of course, unwritten) rule if you’ve helped a customer for five minutes, it’s your sale. So I’d go off on my fool’s errand to find whatever she needed from the stock room, only to come back downstairs and find she’d completed the sale, and it hadn’t been in my name. Thanks.

During Christmas I sold this giant Santa-in-a-canoe figure. The sale went something like this:

“How much is that Santa in the canoe?”

“It’s $400.”

“I’ll take it. I’m in a hurry.”

“Ok, I can put it in this big bag for you, or I can run upstairs really quickly to get the box.”

“The bag’s fine, I’m in a hurry. I have to go now.”

“Ok, thanks for shopping at Nordstrom.”

Madame Charming returns from whereever she’s been.

“What happened to the Santa in the canoe?” She seems pissed.

“I just sold him!” I said, proudly.

“Wait, you just sold him? To who?”

“This nice gentleman who just left in a hurry.”

“Did you get the box from upstairs?”

“I offered, but he said he was in a hurry, and he didn’t want to wait.”

“You have to call him and tell him to come get the box! He can’t pack it without the box!”

“He was in a hurry. He didn’t want the box. I offered it to him, but he didn’t want it.”

“But he can’t pack it when Christmas is over WITHOUT THE BOX! CALL HIM AND TELL HIM TO GET THE BOX!”

“I don’t have his number; he paid cash. How about we keep the box down here in the back office in case he comes back?”

“I can’t believe you sold the customer a Santa without a box! That’s not good customer service!”

“He didn’t want the box. It would have been worse customer service to make him wait for something he didn’t want.”

“That’s not how we do things here.”

I apologized because it was the only thing I could have said without getting myself fired.


Retail isn’t known for having the greatest work-life balance. Our schedules were based on what our managers called “a combination of seniority and sales performance”, which was also bogus. Crazy Manager once promised that I could leave early to attend a wedding, but then denied knowing anything about it when she saw how sales were progressing that morning. My Grandmother had a fall on Thanksgiving and I was at the hospital with her until six the following morning; I had to be at work at nine. I had planned to call in sick, but Mom talked me out of it. “You can’t call in sick on Black Friday, she’ll can you.”

Well, surely if she knew the circumstances…

I decided not to risk it. Lucky I did, because my coworkers all agreed: she would have canned me. Managers at Nordstrom were famous for working 60 hour weeks with a single day off if they were lucky, and they expected the same dedication from their employees.


Breaks were another thorny issue. Sometimes you’d be scheduled to work half your shift alone. You’d come back from lunch and there wouldn’t be anybody there to give you a second break. Although you were supposed to get two breaks and a lunch, this was something else that Nordstrom’s lack of a clear policy frustrated. Ask Manager and they’d tell you it was the MOD’s job to relieve you for your break if nobody else was there. Ask another and they’d say it was ok to leave as long as you told somebody from another department to watch your department, which meant keep eyes on it from their department. Another manager would say having someone watch your department meant someone had to be in your department while you were gone (which was impossible, because they’d have been leaving their own department; most departments had a single employee scheduled during the evening).

Clarification of “the rules” always seemed to fit the situation. That’s where the last example came from. I’d just come back from break while somebody else had agreed to watch my department from their own. The MOD was frantic. Frantic is never good at Nordstrom, because that means the fear of their superiors is running through their veins.

“We had an issue with a customer return and we couldn’t find you!”

“I was in the break room. I asked Soandso to watch my department.”

“Well, he was busy and there was nobody in your department!

“I was taking my break. I didn’t hear a page. They said if I got someone to watch my department I could.”

“That means there is someone in your department the whole time you’re gone.”

“You and I both know that’s impossible at this time of night.”

“Then you don’t get your second break.”

And of course it’s the MODs job to tell Crazy everything the next morning.


Egos at my store were very fragile. Store meetings were mandatory, and missing one could get you fired. My very first day, I missed a store meeting at 7AM (my shift didn’t start until 1 PM) because I overslept, and the meeting was before the store opened so there was nobody on the switchboard to call and explain I wouldn’t be there.

When I finally got ahold of the manager, she was livid, in spite of my explanation and profuse apology.

“Everybody noticed you weren’t there.”

Really? It’s my first day. I haven’t met anybody. I thought to myself.

“The store manager asked, ‘Where’s your team?’ There were only two of us there. Missing a store meeting is very, very, serious. You can get fired for that. I’m not going to fire you this time, but never miss a store meeting again.”

So the Store Manager asks my Manager where her team is, and that’s a crushing criticism? For somebody who works in retail, you’re pretty sensitive.


When I finally had enough and quit to go back to being a travel agent, I had a good long jaw with the HR gal at my store (with whom I had a good rapport), who seemed sympathetic to some of my complaints, and not quite so sympathetic to others. Among them:

“Commissioned sales is tough. When I started in Hosiery my Manager would look at me and I’d have one chance to go get that sale before she’d take it. Our managers work for commission too.”

I understand that, but what we’re talking about is being sent on a fool’s errand in the middle of a sale and coming back to find that the manager has closed and taken credit for it. That’s tantamount to wage theft.

“Your Manager should never have screamed at you. You should have come to me.”

That’s all well and good, but unless you could have promised me a position in another department, which would have been a waiver of the “unwritten, written six month requirement to stay in one department before moving” which other employees had told me Crazy Manager said she would never waive, I would most certainly have been fired. You understand that’s pretty risky when you’re trying to keep your job.

“Yeah, the clean department thing is important, but I understand how it might be subjective. Our employees are supposed to use their good judgement.”

My coworkers “good judgement” usually involved telling the manager I’d done a poor job regardless of what the truth was. Her “good judgement” was taking their word over mine, without seeing what was supposed to have been wrong because they’d “already fixed it”. If you ask me, it was all pretty “bad judgement” on their part.

In the end, I had some good takeaways from working at Nordstrom (the smell of Nordstrom Habits immediately takes me back) and I still shop there from time to time. But whenever I do, I still wonder who’s on the struggle bus, because it’s a difficult job, and I know plenty of those folks have to be.

Bonus Round: Some preemptive answers to some of the things I’ll probably be accused of for writing this post!

Retail is difficult. You’re not cut out for it.

I don’t dispute that retail is difficult. However, it should be difficult for the universal, uncontrollable reasons retail is difficult. Long hours. Difficult customers. Standing on your feet all day. It should not, however, be difficult because of controllable reasons like dishonest employees, insecure managers, or unclear employment policies. There were thankfully more times that were enjoyable than were not, and I have friends who continue to work for Nordstrom and have found it rewarding. For me, it was never a career, and regardless of the field you’re in, you’ll always have employees who are not career folks. That doesn’t mean they don’t deserve to be treated well during their tenure.

You’re wrong; Nordstrom is the best.

I very much admire Nordstrom for achieving what they’ve achieved from humble beginnings, and for their customer focus that is key to their success. I’m proud to see a company with deep roots in the Northwest and Alaska doing well on the national stage. My experience was ten years ago, at a single store – I sincerely hope it’s different now, both at my store, and every other Nordstrom store.

You just didn’t like working on commission and getting returns.

Actually, I do like working on commission. I left Nordstrom for a job as a commissioned travel agent. I’m naturally competitive and like to see the results of my work quantified, and I like to compare it with my peers. However, a commissioned environment with protections against returns and a clear policy for resolving credit disputes is a more positive commissioned environment than the one I experienced. Other retailers even agree, and have stopped paying commissions in favor of a set salary – so there’s not a true “best answer” for retailers on this issue. There are benefits and detractors to both. Like I said, Nordstrom’s return policy is great for customers, great for the health of the organization, but it’s not great for individual employees. In many cases the store even gets a credit from the vendor for returned items (or is able to resell the item at an outlet) but the employee gets nothing (unless they’re successful in reselling the item, in which case they’re paid a single commission for selling it twice). If returns were related to poor salesmanship, then it would be a fair system, but there are returns for defective merchandise, buyer’s remorse, honest mistakes (I bought one and my wife bought one, now we have two, oops!), and flat out dishonesty. Employees shouldn’t bear the burden for circumstances beyond their control. The idea that returns generate positive sales is too abstract on an individual basis.

You didn’t work hard enough to be successful at Nordstrom. And you lack commitment.

Actually, I was successful at Nordstrom, I made enough money to buy the things I needed, and I consistently met or exceeded my sales goals and those of my department. Accept that there are some people, even at the best companies, who work to live, rather than living to work, and they do a good job when they’re working. There were a lot of things I liked about Nordstrom; unfortunately the things I didn’t like

outweighed them. I don’t lack commitment at all; I just had the wisdom not to commit to a job where the bad outweighed the good.

You worked at the company for six months ten years ago, and you think you know everything?

This is a memoir, not an expose. This is my own singular experience, and I’m glad you took the time to read it.

You must not be very successful with your crappy attitude.

I’m a post-graduate degreed professional and I’ve been with my current company for seven years and I make good money. I’ve tried to present a pretty balanced story here.

There are two sides to every story.

You’re absolutely right. This is mine.

*Names have been changed.

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The appropriateness of cultural appropriation -or- “Effie, we all got pain.”

Much has been said and written and Facebook-commented regarding Sierra Mannie’s op-ed that expresses frustration with white gay men for “stealing black female culture”. There were mixed responses from many gay white men, ranging from confusion over the abstractness of her points or the “wait a minute” posts that point out that many of the examples she gives of black female culture actually originated among gay men, many of whom were of color, and took further issue with the wrought iron boxes surrounding cultural and gender concepts with which Mannie speaks of with the idealist eloquence of a well-studied collegiate. 

I myself have some particularly stark questions for Ms. Mannie to back up. The first question I have is pretty simple: why call out specifically white gays? Does she mean to suggest that other gay men of color, be they Latino, Asian, Native American, South Pacific Islander or mixed-race don’t also appropriate “Blackness”, or is it only offensive to her when white gay men do it? If the first, let me share I’ve had several encounters with gay men of all colors who do a good Beyonce impression; if the second, well, I hate to throw around the word “racist”, but what’s really a better term? 

The second question I have regards “stealing”. If somebody steals my bicycle, that’s a loss to me, because I don’t get to ride my bike anymore. But if somebody goes out and buys the same brand of bicycle as me, I’m still riding my own bike with the wind in my hair and the rainbow streamers coming off the handlebars. Ditto culture. Does Ms. Mannie not get to enjoy “[black] music, dances, slang, clothing, and hairstyles” because they’ve become popular with white people? Are they somehow forbidden to her? Not quite, and to claim that the cultural zeitgeist borne from people of her color should somehow remain with people of her color is a rather narrow world view in this ever broadening world. White gay men have their own culture, and we (for the most part) didn’t feel threatened or stolen from when Judy, Liza, Barbra, Bette, and Cher moved on from their roots playing the gay clubs and started broadcasting into the living rooms of Straight America. We tuned in.

The byline of her piece admonishes that white gay men are not black women, and thus have a right to claim neither “blackness” nor “womanhood”. Call me a literalist, but it’s my understanding that these concepts are pretty concrete. “Blackness” ostensibly means that one is a black person, cultural implications notwithstanding. “Womanhood” means one is female. Blackness is blackness (and it’s wonderfully diverse, both in the U.S. and throughout the world) whether you’re dark-skinned or light-skinned; biracial or multiracial; red-headed or blue eyed, born in Harlem or Hawai’i; enjoying Rap or Rococo. “Womanhood” is straight sorority girls and butch lesbians; courtesans and nuns; drag queens (many of whom are transwomen) and beauty queens. The “black womanhood” of which Mannie speaks appears to be a strikingly small slice of the rich cultural diversity of black women. It seems daunting for anybody to “appropriate black womanhood” if the caricatures she (rightfully) takes issue with are all she’s “having stolen”. If that’s truly the case, it’s not “black womanhood” that’s at stake; it’s the more grotesque forms of black female archetypes (which any University sociology student would be aware of) and not much of a treasure to forfeit.

The next question I have regards what I call the “Oppression Olympics”.  At the risk of appropriating black female culture (because I’m frankly a little pissed) my response to Mannie’s comparison of the black female experience to the White Privilege enjoyed by white gay men, my response is “Effie we all got pain.” Black women suffer misogyny and racism (and homophobia) – there’s no disputing that. White gay men suffer homophobia. All three are injustices; all three have proven to be harmful, even fatal. 

The late Christopher Isherwood was once famously engaged in a conversation with a young Jewish movie producer, and the topic of the Holocaust came up, which Isherwood mentioned killed hundreds of thousands of gay men. The producer responded, “It killed six million Jews.” to which Isherwood quipped, “What are you, in real estate?” Perhaps I digress, but what I mean to say is oppression doesn’t get rated on a point system. You don’t get extra chits for being a member of more than one oppressed minority at the same time – the homophobia is just as hurtful if you’re black or white; the misogyny is just as damaging if you’re a straight tennis player or a lipstick lesbian.

Richard J. Rosendall, President of the Gay and Lesbian Activists Alliance, contrasts Mannie’s opinions on this much better than I ever could: 

When a member of one group claims exclusive ownership of a particular bit of turf regarding oppression, he or she commits a falsification by omission. Ranking oppressions can blind us to one another’s experiences and get in the way of justice. Looking at me or hearing me at a given moment does not tell you everything about me. It doesn’t show all I have stood for, whom I have fought beside, or the price I paid. This works both ways. When we are too quick to judge, we erect obstacles to cooperation. That chip on your shoulder is a form of aggression.

The final question I have is about intent. I hardly think any white gay man who approaches a black woman doing their best Madea impression is doing so as some sort of cultural vampire bat. If one were Latina and he approached attempting to speak Spanish, is that cultural appropriation or cultural understanding? Assumptive, yes (What if you don’t speak Spanish?) A little tacky, undoubtedly. (What if you’re actually Native American?) But remember that whether or not you think the joke is cute or funny, appreciate the fact that they’re attempting to enjoy it with you, not in spite of you.

Converse. Say “You know what, I don’t appreciate that.” Seize the specific moment, and deal with the situation one-on-one (instead of in a blanket complaint) individual experience facing individual experience. But don’t try to lock down “black female culture” (because any culture is diverse and unruly to render controlling it impossible – just ask the French), and don’t finger white gay men – we may not fully understand your struggles as a black woman, but it’s crystal clear from your assertions that we can hide our minority that you sure as shit don’t understand ours. it’s easier for us to strengthen you if you’re not trying to blame us.

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Away, gays! AWAY!

Once upon a time in a great country called Amurica, a federal judge in Kentucky ruled that the state could no longer refuse to recognize same-sex marriages performed out of state. Yay, right? Well it seems like us queers win one, and then other folks get upset and find other ways to piss off the internet and keep the lawyers in business. So the new “Discrimination du Jour” appears to be new laws working their way through the governments in Tennesee and Kansas that allow folks to discriminate against us horrible people by exercising their right to refuse services to people who in support of a same-sex wedding in the name of “protecting their freedom to exercise their religion”.

Hold the fucking phone, people. If we actually read the Bible, all of the admonishments about homosexuality (and they’re in the Old Testament, which includes a lot of other weird shit like banishing women from the tribe while they’re on their period, not eating shellfish, and only allowing men to beat their wives with a small stick) doesn’t say that it’s an abomination to bake a lemon chiffon cake with fondant icing for the two nice boys (in matching waistcoats) or two nice girls (on their second date) down the street who want to get themselves hitched. It doesn’t say “Thou shalt not photograph a same sex wedding and promise their photos to them within two weeks but then really take two months and have them come out all purple” anywhere in the Bible. It admonishes people against performing homosexual acts (although it doesn’t specifically prohibit marriage) although some scholars believe the original (translated many times by man) intent in those passages was meant to apply specifically to general promiscuity, whether same-sex or otherwise.

It’s frightening how wide-reaching these ideas are. Are business owners allowed to refuse service for all weddings, civil unions or commitment ceremonies with which they take issue? What about mixed-race ceremonies, which were illegal within the last century? How about Muslim ones? Can a Catholic business owner refuse service to an unwed mother who is visibly pregnant or to another who they know to be divorced?

The First Amendment allows free exercise of religion, meaning that one’s religious rites and practices are protected by law; it does not, however, give citizens carte blanche to circumvent other laws requiring them not to discriminate.

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Some reasons I’m not following you on social media

We all have reasons for following accounts. Sometimes the accounts belong to personal friends, sometimes they’re products we like, sometimes they just plain entertain us. But in this age of self-branding, where everybody who wants to succeed at social media has to take a quick crash course in journalism, marketing, and product management, there are so many who just don’t get it right. Now, I don’t pretend that my follow is the equivalent of, say, getting retweeted by a major internet (or, gasp, perhaps even IRL) celebrity, but at the very least, dear reader, please take my poorly-written complaint as a plea to do better if you’re guilty of any of the following.

Behold, the reasons I’m not following you on social media. And that’s either not following back or unfollowing.

1. You’ve completely missed the mark with your demographic targeting. I’m a single, gay, left-leaning, graduate-degreed professional. So if your product is, say, “Sanctity of Marriage” bumper stickers or “Get your G.E.D. at home in only six weeks!” or Duck Dynasty table runners, I’m probably not interested.

2. Too many damn selfies. I get it. Taking pictures of yourself for all the internet to see are the rage among the young ‘uns these days. But it’s boring. Even if you’re gorgeous, I really don’t care what you look like driving/on the toilet/drunk/making duckface/wearing new boots/having just woken up etc. This one is especially true for Instagram. If I look at your profile and more than half your posts are of your face, I’m not interested.

3. Retweet diarrhea. Twitter sure is fun, isn’t it? One of the nicer things about Twitter is that if a tweet is particularly boring/irritating/stupid you can just breeze right on past it because it’s only 140 characters. This benefit is completely shot to bits when I find myself scrolling through a bunch of nonsense because someone’s hijacked my feed by retweeting everything in theirs. Original thinking, people!

4. Consumer Outrage. I spent years working in Customer Service capacities, and I’ve heard just about everything. Mostly, I’ve heard enough to know that there are two sides to every story. The consumer usually embellishes, and the corporate response is typically milquetoast, non-accusatory, and makes every attempt to direct the conversation offline. End result: boredom, and very little tangible impact in my perception of the brand you’re complaining about.

5. Your individual account is managed by a PR professional. Now, of course, most corporate accounts fall into this category for obvious reasons, but for individuals, the expectation is generally that your voice will be the one that is being shared on social media – not some employee whose job it is the time the posts with links to your press releases. Social media is about transparency and accessibility. Now, if you’re an Amanda Bynes or Ashton Kutcher and you can’t be trusted with direct access to your social media account, it’s just best to stay off it all together.

Agree? Disagree? Your name’s Benedict Cumberbatch and you want to ask for my hand in marriage? Leave a comment below.

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Chivalry is dead. Good riddance to bad rubbish

I was sitting through  marathon brunch today with some folks and a friend of mine related a story about his arrival in Dallas that morning. Apparently some women were late for the parking shuttle and flagged it down. Upon boarding and finding nowhere to sit, they passive-aggressively wondered aloud if any of the men on the shuttle would give up their seats for a lady. My friend, who does not subscribe to such nonsense, silently declined, and then posted to Facebook, saying that having vagina shouldn’t get you special treatment.

Of course, “this is Texas” where that exact three words are used as an excuse for all kinds of nonsense, from denim jackets to Whataburger. It’s the Great Omega of any philosophical argument. “This is Texas (i.e. we’re backward and stubborn, so just deal).” Once you’ve said that, there is no more supporting the dissent with reason.

But let’s take a look at why chivalry is (and should rightfully remain) dead, no matter how many women throughout the country might wish to use it as grounds for asking for someone on  bus to give up their set for them on the basis of their sex.

It’s positively feudal. No, literally, it is. Chivalry harkens back to a time when the “Schlep Factor” was the least of your worries. During the Middle Ages outlaws, bandits, highwaymen and all sorts of other nasties routinely terrorized travelers; especially women, who were often raped and held for ransom. Knights of the age were trained to offer assistance to those weaker than them (children, the elderly, women) and it mainly came in the form of running through the baddies with their sword.

It’s Bourgeois. What began as chivalry in the Middle Ages was later referred to as “gallantry” by the Early Modern Period. Marx identified the class divide late in the 19th Century: the Bourgeois (people whose income came from land whether part of the peerage [i.e. they were in possession of a title] or the landed gentry); and the Proletariat (folks without land who had to work for other people for a living). For the Bourgeois, women’s fashion and expectations for deportment were designed to indicate that she did not perform manual labor, thus distinguishing her from the Proletariat. Prevented in many countries from being completely idle (thanks Protestant morality!), Bourgeois women were expected to take up only pursuits that were essentially useless: playing (but not writing) music, drawing, embroidery, etc.

It’s Kink. Yes, I said it, it’s really kink. Not being able to open doors without breaking a nail (long nails are another sign that you don’t do manual labor), alight from a carriage in your hourglass figure-making corset, or even walk to the kitchen for a Malomar and a glass of milk with tiny bound feet, fashion in the time of gallantry literally necessitated it. Today’s woman can generally manage just fine on their own, even in five inch Jimmy Choo’s.

It’s codependent. When gallantry was alive and well, women needed men. They literally required them. It wasn’t just opening doors and throwing down cloaks (although it was good reinforcement). A home, money, protection; women needed men for those things, which they got first from their fathers and subsequently from their husbands.

It’s sexist. While some women might appreciate being treated “like a princess” (the pinnacle of Bourgeois idle-ness), determining attitude and behavior toward another person solely on account of their sex is textbook sexism. In the modern world, the first person to a door opens it, anybody can easily walk around a puddle, and the odds of getting randomly kidnapped and held for ransom on your way back to your castle are greatly reduced. Also, I’m a man, and I kind of like having the door held open for me too (although I certainly don’t mind doing it if I get there first). Of course, I’m not supposed to like that, because that would be feminine, which is completely unacceptable for men in a society with clearly defined gender roles.

So what do we have instead of chivalry? Well, universal suffrage is a big one. So is the ability to work for her own money (although she’s still not paid as much as men). Maybe the divorce rate is higher, but that also means that women have options (aside from murder or suicide) for leaving an unhappy marriage. Maybe, just maybe, we might end up in  world where everyone is treated well – both women and men.

In the meantime, feel free to hold open the door for me, and send me some flowers too.

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Paula Deen, Gladiator?

I’ve long held that our national past time isn’t really baseball; it’s righteous indignation. That’s right, we love to take offense. We’re a nation of individuals, rooted in the ideals of the 18th Century Enlightenment where the notion of the individual really began to solidify. Just look at the concept of individual property rights in Britain at the time – the theft of so much as a loaf of bread was a capital crime. It was righteous indignation that gave birth to our country, and righteous indignation is our favorite hobby to this day.

Let’s take a look at the Paula Deen controversy. I’m not going to weigh in on whether she’s right or wrong, a victim or a villain, whether she should be left alone or hanged by her thumbs. What I will go out on a limb and say is that I don’t think anybody’s really that offended. It’s not like we find the word she said so repugnant that we make wholesale warfare on idiom itself. If we did that, hip hop would cease to exist. We’re “offended” because:

A. We like to feel morally superior whenever a public figure has a crack in their veneer. “Look at me, I’m less racist than Paula Deen!”

B. PR Disasters are our national blood sport, and that makes media ad space sellers happy.

C. We love that freedom of speech that allows us to vamp on an opinion.

When I suggest Paula Deen is a gladiator, I’m not suggesting that she’s some sort of miniskirt wearing swordsman fighting the good fight for truth, justice, and two sticks of butter. The gladiatorial parallel I suggest is similar to what happens at the end of the joust, when she’s standing there quivering and covered in blood, waiting for the thumbs up or thumbs down that will irrevocably decide her fate. Only this time we’re the Emperor, and we’re deciding with a mouse click.

We say “Oh, those Romans were barbaric! Feeding Christians to lions and that sort of thing.” But the truth is, we’re no better. We can’t pass up the opportunity to give our literal thumbs down on an online discussion thread and decide the fate of someone who’s fallen from grace. We’ll cut the cord and then turn our backs and say, “She brought it on herself. If only she were as morally upstanding as I.”

Whether it’s early Christians or celebrity chefs, I guess it’s just human nature to want to see somebody get ripped to shreds at by a horde of beasts.

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10 Signs You Might Be a Texan

I’ve lived in Texas or about four years, and this place never ceases to amaze/enrage/amuse me. Here’s a list of the things I notice about Texans that amuse and amaze me. Please don’t be enraged by them. You might be a Texan if…

1. You see a turn signal as an invitation to speed up.

Never fails. I put on my turn signal and the car in the lane I’m trying to merge into immediately speeds up. I can almost hear the “Goddammit we didn’t fight at the Alamo only to have to drive behind other cars on the freeway!” coming from the other car. I tried to give the benefit of the doubt by thinking perhaps Texans thought it was friendly to speed up so you could merge  behind them (because when I let people merge they seem to hesitate, expecting me to speed up) but my born-and-raised Texan friend Jennifer says, “No, they’re just assholes.”

2. You never stop talking about where you went to college

Some people even get this shit tattooed on their posterior. School spirit is one thing, but this is kind of crazy devotion is taken to a crazy Texas level I’ve only really experienced here (well, and in Oklahoma, which is kind of like Texas Lite). And the stereotypes that go along with each school are super super specific. “Yeah, you can only go to SMU if you’re rich, scored in the 15th percentile on the SAT, and never wear socks with penny loafers.” Ok.

3. You use the word “Bless(ed)”, “Praise”, or “Fellowship” at least once daily.

Ask any city in Texas where they are on the Bible Belt, and they’ll always tell you they’re the buckle. Never the third eyelet, never the tail, the buckle. Pretty much everywhere that admits being part of this region where Evangelical Christianity takes up the first 15 stations of broadcast television and provides the most polling locations for government elections claims they’re the buckle.

4. You consider catfish, crawfish, and shrimp to be seafood (only when fried) and any other type of sealife to be inedible.

We get it, Texas, Beef > Fish. (Except on Fridays). I run into so many people here who think they don’t like seafood, to which I quickly and readily retort “You’ve never had good seafood.” It’s a tough battle, and not one I generally try to win if it means I have to share my salmon cheeks.

5. You know “Shit” has two syllables and “San Antonio” is a single word that is pronounced “Sannatone.”

I’ve also heard three syllable versions of the former, and the latter shortened to “Santone.”

6. Weather (How hot, how twister-y) is always first on the local news.

Then murders, executions, robberies, football, baseball, and if there’s time, things that happen outside of Texas.

7. You gasp in reverent appreciation whenever anyone mentions Six Flags, Schlitterbahn, Great Wolf Lodge, or the State Fair.

Texans love their crowds, thrill rides, and deep fried edibles.

8. You seem to think chili should not have beans and consuming it should require signing a waiver.

It’s also served with bread and milk, and if it doesn’t put you in the hospital going in, it will coming out.

9. A body of water you cannot see across is not “The Ocean”, it’s “The Gulf”, which is pronounced without the “L”.

And the place where you go to get obnoxious beside it is simple called “South Padre”.

10. You rattle on about nothing in particular to complete strangers.

I was once visiting a coworker in the hospital and she was entertaining a small group of friends and family in a public space at the hospital. A man came in looking for a family member who was staying there and he noticed us and jabbered on at length about nothing terribly important and we all politely listened, until after 45 minutes she politely faked acute narcolepsy to drive home the hint.

Posted in Ridiculous Shenanigans, Rumination | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment

Be Ugly, Go Shopping. Dealing with Abercrombie & Fitch’s Body Fascism.

So Abercrombie & Fitch is making headlines again. Not because the catalog was pornographic or their hiring practices are obscene or the CEO has weird taste in Flight Attendants, this time it’s because the Botox Bandit has basically said a bunch of stupid things that would put Regina George to shame.

And what’s going to happen about it? Probably not much. Sure, the company lost some major cash during the recession, but it’s still kicking. But why isn’t the backlash going to have any effect? Because the people who are angry aren’t buying A&F anyway (because it doesn’t fit). Sure, anybody can point out that they’re the exception, and they can fit into A&F clothes but choose not to shop there because they have a moral repugnance for supporting douchebaggery, but the “core customer” that A&F’s fearless leader seems to have such a hysterical obsession with pleasing isn’t going to be terribly affected.

So what to do? We could write open letters that say “I don’t fit into your clothes, but you could stop being such a bully (because we haven’t worn that word out yet) for I just know deep down you’re probably not as awful as you sound.” Or we could enjoy America’s favorite pastime (it’s not baseball, folks) and get self-righteously indignant, but not do anything.

Or we could do this. Just hear me out.

1. Be Ugly, Go Shopping. It might seem counterintuitive to go into a store whose basic philosophy you disagree with, especially when they play the music so damn loud, but just let me finish the thought. If you’re not the kind of person A&F wants shopping in their stores, go shopping. They don’t want fat people, ugly people, uncool people seen in their stores? Too bad. We have friends to shop for. And it’s going to take us a looooooong time to pick out what we want. We might even have to go back. Multiple times. And we might even decide not to buy them anything at all. But we must carefully deliberate every one of A&Fs overpriced wares. So that’s it in short-form. Be ugly. And shop at A&F.

2. Fly Your Freak Flag Upside Down. If going into A&F might be counterintuitive, it might seem even more ridiculous when I tell you to buy something, but there are a couple caveats. First, it has to be a logo you can cut off. Shield logos are good. Cut it off, sew it on to something else, and wear it with pride. Except you’ll sew it on upside down (that’s the international signal for distress). Second, you have to buy it. No stealing it off the internet. Gotta keep it legal, folks. Sure, A&F gets the forty bucks, and what do you get? You get to tell everybody who asks why your A&F logo is upside down exactly why they’ve pissed you off. And you can slap it on a 3XL t-shirt or a size 16 dress, neither of which A&F make. They don’t want fat/ugly/smart people wearing their clothes, but they never said we couldn’t alter them.

Will it work? Like “fetch”, it may never happen (so stop trying Gretchen), but sometimes, just sometimes, a bunch of angry people doing little things can actually change something. Maybe we’ll get lucky. Until then: Be Ugly. Go Shopping. Get Sewing.

Posted in Consumerism, Offensive Tomfoolery, Ridiculous Shenanigans | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The adversity hierarchy: who has it worst?

For some reason tonight, ideas of marginalization and gender and transgender popped into my head. I thought to myself in my wine-and-diet-coke fueled early morning reverie that I could easily be a lesbian. I like comfortable shoes, boxer shorts, and monogamy. But then I thought deeper. Unfortunately even among gay and lesbian men and women (or lesbian and gay women and men if you’re one of those who think the order in which the parties are mentioned is some sort of subliminal gender bias) some sort of “adversity hierarchy” still seems to exist.

Some say lesbians have a double hit against them because they’re not only homosexuals, they’re also women. I can definitely understand that, but I think it’s merely a matter of personal preference when one looks at whether choices for men and women are really equal. Sure, lesbians might be seen as women first when it comes to pay parity, but what about men (especially some decades ago) who entered caring professions typically held by women, such as nursing, early elementary education, or being a flight attendant? Who’s the bigger “failure”? A childless woman who chose career over family, or a man who’s doing “women’s work”?

Americans seem to be in love with their own invented adversity. Our national creation myth is built right upon it. We love to play the underdog when, in reality, we’re not. Our founding fathers in the modern context were really part of the “one percent” (they were landed, educated, and wealthy) and they had a difficult time convincing anybody that their rights were actually being violated (the tax rate in the colonies was a mere fraction of what it was in represented Britain at the time); in fact, the majority of their backers were either mercenaries (who also fought for the British) or the French (whose participation in the revolution was little more than a dick-measuring contest with the British revenge for the colonies they had lost in the War of 1763).

We like to pretend our lives are difficult. We use words like “horrific” and “atrocity” and “outrageous” to describe things like airline delays and traffic jams and bad customer service. We complain about tipping in restaurants and high gas prices. And when we don’t get everything we think we deserve as Citizens of the First World, we invent adversity. The flight’s delayed because people are incompetent. The traffic’s bad because the politicians wouldn’t approve spending. The customer service is bad because the employee was being racist.

I don’t care much for the “Who has it harder?” argument, because the answer is either going to be “me”, or “someone I’m trying to buy leverage with” or “someone who I think will win the argument”. I think a better question than “Who has it harder?” is “Who needs a stronger voice?” We all struggle, but many of us have a strong voice in our corner. The support for Gay and Lesbian men and women continues to crescendo. The voice of African Americans, women, undocumented workers, and people with disabilities also grows.

I feel one of the more misunderstood groups, who needs a stronger voice, is Transgendered individuals. For them, the lines aren’t as clear, because transition is a difficult situation to put in a box. Are Transmen subject to the adversities of women when they identify as men? Are Transwomen subject to the same adversities because they identify as and are transitioning to be women although they were born men? There is even misunderstanding among the broader group of gay and lesbian men and women about gender identity and sexual orientation. Some even wonder if Transgendered people should even be included, because many of them identify as heterosexual (although I know of a few who are bisexual or even gay).

Don’t get me wrong – I’m not discounting the struggles that any other marginalized group faces. I’m merely making a small, insignificant plea for a second look. Joe Biden has called transgender discrimination “the civil rights issue of our time“. I think it’s time we all understood a little bit better.

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