Having paid for my private high school and college education, my mother can only expect that my writing skills are above par. I'd like to think so, and I can't be anything but flattered that she comes to me for advice when writing emails, letters, and such. Well, flattered, or taken advantage of. Huh. Anyway, tonight she approached me with a letter that she wanted me to edit. I didn't understand the situation, so I inquired. The retelling of the incident went something like this.
Apparently, in some schools in New York, it is prohibited to use cellular devices in the bathrooms. Unaware of this rule, my mother enters the bathroom, ends her already brief conversation, and hangs up the phone. This was a three stall bathroom, and the middle stall was the only occupied one, so she takes the stall to the right. As she begins to relieve herself and indulge in a few moments of quiet from her class, the women in the middle stall begins to yell at her. There is to be no cell phone use in the bathroom. The woman finished up and left the restroom. My mom, taken aback, finished up and exited soon after. As the door shut behind her, she was greeted with the face of an angry French woman, the same woman in the neighboring stall. She happened to be the director of the school and took her role as such very seriously. Perhaps a bit too seriously? Yes. While admonishing my mother for disobeying the rules, she directed her attention to each and every sign that indicated that no cell phone usage was allowed. Dear God, woman! My mother's conversation, while in the bathroom, consisted of no more than the salutation, a quick "bye." Berating her, as if she were a child, was completely unnecessary. A gentle reminder of the rules would've sufficed, but when those of authority lack any sense of self confidence are presented with the opportunity to take advantage of that authority, the do. They eat that up like it were candy.
My first question, upon hearing the story, "Was she peeing or taking a dump?" This question was twofold. First, I wanted to point out the absurdity of the whole situation, and then I also wanted to find out how long she had to lecture my mother. Honestly, I hate when people talk while in the middle of relieving themselves of excess waste. When things are exited you from the bottom, nothing should be exiting from the top. Just let the moment happen in silence.
My second thought was whether the situation was worth waiting for my mother to finish, to proceed to lecture her. I think not. My mother, disrupting no one else in the building, and wanting only to go to the bathroom, felt embarrassed and mildly violated.
The letter I was to edit addressed how that woman had made my mother feel. She wanted so much to just tell her off, but she told me that she wanted to maintain a sense of dignity as well. I told her the letter made her sound like a petulant child, throwing a temper tantrum. My revisions remedied that.
Nothing really else to account about this. I just thought the situation was beyond asinine, and those involved were acting about half a century younger than they were. Two adults, one cell phone, and whole lot of shit.
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