Allison is a young friend of mine, who’s originally from New York, as in the City. Yes, she has the Naw Yawk accent. She was educated in elite private schools, holds a degree from Hofstra, and is an accomplished equestrian. Given her very pricey hobby of owning horses, she has three jobs. By day, she’s a supply chain manager for a large corporation, she’s a professional, three-night-a week bartender, and she teaches riding lessons on the weekend.
Surprisingly , Allison is one of the most upbeat persons I’ve ever met. She’s uber enthusiastic and energetic, yet on my last encounter she was sad. Oh dear, I thought. Did something happen to one of her horses? Or one of her adopted chihuahuas?
“Allison, talk to me. What’s going on?”
“Sue, I got called into HR today.”
“Wow, are you being promoted again?”
“I wish. No. I used inappropriate language.”
I smiled. “Like what? Called someone a name, like jerk or horse’s ass?”
“According to HR, I did something far worse; in fact, totally inappropriate in the work place. I manage a seven-member team of women. The HR Director overheard me say, ‘Hey girls, where shall we go to lunch today?'”
“And you got called in for that?”
“Yep. I was told to refer to them as ladies or women. Girls is inappropriate.”
“Allison, sit down. Let me tell you a story–a story I know you studied, given your classical education. Remember when Juliet asks, ‘What’s in a name?’ What does she say next?”
“That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”
“Correct. My dear Allison, girl is more appropriate than the current government’s use of piggy or fucking bitch.”
What do you think?
I do not have a sophisticated palate; I’m far from a gourmand. Both of my grandmothers were excellent cooks; they prepared rural, regional cuisines. My paternal grandmother was the family legend of baking: pies, donuts, blueberry muffins, and cinnamon rolls were her forte. I knew I’d never learn to make pie crust or breads like hers.
Me thinks there is a substantial percentage of American consumers, who are so gullible they pay outrageous prices for routine items. Of course, my daughters are in that group. To me, a handbag or wallet fulfills a need. To them, it is a fashion statement. So I ask you: when was the last time you ogled someone’s wallet at the store checkout? When was the last time you coveted someone’s choice of paper towels or toilet paper? When was the last time you envied someone’s plastic bottle of water?
Dr. Suze Espouses 