One of my first jobs out of high school was at a trendy salad bar restaurant, named Healthy Habits. They were all the rage back then, as the Earth had just cooled and salad was plentiful in the Paleozoic era. I worked with a small group of other homosexuals, as one does right of high school. We would joke and tease, but mostly talk about the cute boys coming in to eat at the salad bar. For a time we had a manager, we’ll call him Ken. Due to the fact that he acted like a Ken doll… well looked like a Ken doll, and acted like Barbie. As the crew joked and around and teased each other, we just assumed Ken was a flamer, like the rest of us. That was until the day Ken had enough of the horseplay and called me into the office to inform me that he was, in fact not gay. A Heterosexual, if you will. He did not appreciate being lumped in with the common staff during conversions.
As he spoke I had, for the first time in my life been blindsided in my judgement of another person. It was more than 90’s gaydar gone astray. I went down the list of why I assumed he was a homo…… 1990 Celica in powder blue – check. L.L. Bean cable knit sweaters – check. Frosted tips – Check. Wrists that wobbled around like a lazy weathervane in an August heatwave – double check. The soft-spoken “Sssssss” that even as he said, “I am not a Homosssssssssssssexual” were fem and antebellum like – check. All of my internal judgement of how I classified Ken as a fudge packer was quickly being called into question. He stopped when he saw the blank stare on my face. “I’m sorry- I’m just not… like you.” His left hand dismissively waving me off like a flea.
Modern me would have turned my head slightly and exclaimed “Sure, Jan.” But nineteen year old me just clicked my tongue in my cheek and said, “Thanks for clearing that up.” I adjusted my flat rimmed felt Panama hat and returned to work.
This was a major lesson in my life. About how we – how I, classify people quickly, and sometime get that wrong. This conversion started my path into Human Resources as a career, it awakened in me the ability to read peoples’ body language, and to understand what’s said during the unsaid parts of a conversation. We all have our own path of self-understanding, regardless of society’s vague and surface judgements. Ken’s path included handcuffs as he was forcing the special needs boy who worked in the kitchen to masturbate on camera. At work. During dinner rushes. Without washing his hands.
There is story to every person we encounter.