I’m from St Paul, MN where everybody was Swedish or Not so the prejudices my Not mom raised me with were against Swedes and Italians. Before moving here her only contact with Italians was through movies and TV. Never made sense to me, especially since I challenge most anybody to tell the difference between Swedes and Norwegians without seeing their last names. And her BFF here was an Axis-Italian war bride with a hot five-year-old daughter who viewed me with contempt because I was only 4.
Well, I’ll get started then . . .
. . . not all [blanks] are [slur]; I just call the bad ones [slur] is not appropriate. And “I’m married to a [slur] so I have a right to call them [slurs]” is not a reasonable justification.
No wonder the guy thought you were a Trumpist, you’re more than willing to casually throw around racial slurs, based on which ones you’ve decided are true, and which ones you’ve inherited the right to use.
Yeah, I’m with you, both in finding it annoying when people who don’t know me call me by my name, and also in blaming Carnegie. Grrrr.
he. Everyone is different. I prefer a chatty massage therapist, because I get bored otherwise. Also, I like to know a little about them as a person. Someone being so intimate with my body ought to be someone I have some vague familiarity with.
Interesting. For me, there’s a kind of uncanny-valley effect. Someone who’s actually intimate with me being intimate with my body (in a form and at a time I’m OK with)? Perfectly fine. Someone who’s not intimate with me at all (though I might say hi to them in the grocery, say) being intimate with my body in an appropriate professional fashion and context, such as at the doctor’s or dentist’s or therapist’s? Also perfectly fine.
Someone who’s only a casual acquaintance being physically intimate with me, even in an appropriate professional context? Kind of weird. If my neighbor who I talk with casually were one of the options to give me a mammogram, say, or the kind of massage that involves taking off clothes: I’d really rather have a stranger do it.
First, I did not speak like that in front of him. I did not say much to him at all, having not been properly introduced. My tone in the OP was lofty and lacking contractions because he rolled his eyes at the middle-/upper-middle-class town I grew up in and I felt like playing a snob in this thread.
Second, Polak is not a racial slur because Polish is not a race. Shit, Poland, Bohemia, and Norway, over the past couple centuries, haven’t always even been countries; Bohemia is not one now.
Oh, I can go one better!
In true military fashion, when you make an appointment for a routine exam, you get whoever is at the top of the list for that day. Odds are, you’ll never see that person ever again. Not too bad if you are getting your eyes checked, but for the annual pelvic and Rx for birth control, a woman must establish a particular mindset. Mine was mentioned upthread, “do what you gotta do and get it over with.”
The exam began with the typical medical history questions, and then it got to the nitty-gritty. I’m in a paper dress, feet in stirrups, rear end hanging off the end of the table. The doctor is in up to his elbows, then asked, “So how did you like Germany?”
:smack:
~VOW
I once pissed off an orthopedic surgeon during a follow up by calling him by his first name. I felt thought he was really arrogant and condecending toward me (I was 21 at the time; he was at least fifetysomething), also I was misrable due to the leg brace I had to wear and the moblity issues. So when I called him by his first name during the example he got very indignant and he it was Doctor Lastname and that he didn’t give me permisson to use his first name. He didn’t have a response that I never said he could use my first name either. The nurse and med student in the room looked like they were biting their lips to keep from laughing or smirking. Naturally my mother was applalled (at me) when she found out afterwards. He did address me as Mr. ____ afterward though, with a bit of an emphasis on Mr.
This is a constant back and forth between Operations and Quality in the call center I work for. Once upon a time the rule was to use the caller’s name at least 3 times during the call (beginning, middle, & end); then it shifted to a vague directive to use the caller’s name “throughout the call” which Quality refusing to be more specific and it’s resulting in good CSRs being so concerned out their scores they do stuff like use the caller’s name every time they address the caller, no matter how weird & unnatural that sounds. :smack: It get’s even worse when you factor in that most of our CSRs are overseas now.
I think which direction it goes has a lot to do with it. I wouldn’t want someone I was already acquainted with becoming my massage therapist or urologist or anyone else who was going to touch me in intimate ways in a professional manner.
But if I see a health professional frequently enough over time to start to get to know them, I don’t have a problem with that, even if part of their job involves handling personal areas of my body.
I blame Carnegie and his ilk also for service workers with nametags. Yes, people do like it when the folks at the store call us by name because we happen to know end trust each other, not because you’re reading it off a file. Yes, people do like buying in places where we know the name of the waiters or the salespeople because we happen to know and trust each other, not because we’re reading a nametag.
There are a lot of people I know whom I do not trust. Having them call me by my firstname doesn’t make me like them any better, not when I already have good reason to make sure they can’t tell where my wallet is.
If I’m at a hotel I will never go back to, I don’t care for the name tags, because I don’t really care what your name is. I guess it’s slightly helpful if I want to get your attention. But if it’s a place I go regularly, name tags are a way to learn the employees’ names. I’m not going to ask the clerk in the coffee shop her name frequently enough for me to learn it (that’s at least 4 times) but if they wear name tags, I do learn the names of the ones I interact with regularly.
No. When I was younger, it was tolerable. But now that the population is so DAMNED young, they can eke out a measure of respect for me. I’m PAYING for whatever service they are providing, they can respect my money.
I choose my friends. And I give them my nickname to use.
~VOW
You know I’m such a freaky person I don’t want anyone calling my name out loud in public. It’s just another invasion of my need to be invisible. And, God don’t touch me, I may just die. It’s a mental illness. I totally know it, but I can’t feel comfortable out in the mean ol’ world. I work on it everyday. So far to limited success.
Someone here has encouraged me to step out of my cocoon a bit. I was able to get my hair cut without dying. There were tears, I admit. I was also able to go back in the library and take some pics of the mural I painted. It took me a week. But I got the pics.
(Thanks, Mike)
It’s Mikey in your case, and what are friends for? And the mural looks stupendous.
This may still sound strange, but when I get a massage from my massage therapist wife it’s completely non-sexual. As long as I’m on the table, I’m no different than any other client.
Thank you, Mikey.
OTOH, I have a friend that’s a legitimate massage therapist, but her husband always gets the “happy ending”.
Boy howdy. My surgeon has seen the inside of my femur. He has, with terrific skill and care, assaulted me with a hammer and various surgical steel tools. Lovely fellow. Really enjoy him. His first name is Daniel.
He has never called me Cartooniverse. And I’d never call him Daniel.
Because it’s a professional relationship- even though it includes a morning of remarkable intimacy in terms of rooting around in my body.
Nobody gets to presume a level of comfort or intimacy without being invited into that area. That person in the O.P. has no business working around patients.
I was an E.M.T. for a while. I’d do a call, and unless A) The patient was unconscious and B) Someone nearby told me their first name and C) I was yelling it to ascertain a level of consciousness, I would never address someone by their first name.
No wait. I did once. A girl who know me, and I knew her, a classmate of The Fem-Bot™. 5th grade. Got sideswiped by a car while riding her bike home. Broke her leg in a fairly clean manner. I addressed her by her first name. Cause she knew me. And cause she was ten.
I do, depending on the circumstances.
More than once, while hospitalized, a doctor has come into my room, a doctor I’ve never seen before, but who is presumably there for some legitimate reason (and who will certainly send me a bill), looked at the chart, and called me by my first name. When I respond in kind (after looking at the ID card that’s always around the neck or on the belt), saying something like “why, yes, Bob, the knee does still hurt, which is not surprising, given that five or six hours ago, it had a metal spike through it,” said doctor (let’s call him “Bob”) would get totally bent out of shape that I wasn’t addressing him as “Doctor [last name].”
Whatever. You call me by my first name, I get to call you by your first name. That’s all.