Hello High Heelers,
Wow, the end of the year is just speeding towards us, I feel like it’s going to smack me straight in the forehead soon without me noticing its run-up. Much like that hail storm hit Jozi just over a week ago. It’s quite a process getting all the details sorted and the bodywork fixed. I had to visit a panel beater last week to get my little Mini assessed for insurance. It was a humbling experience to say the least. For those of you flat-shoed-ones that work with your hands and car bits; know that you make High Heelers like myself break into a cold sweat (and no – I don’t mean ‘glow’ like a lady – I mean sweat!) and not in a good way. With the word ‘beater’ in your title, you’re kind of off to a bad start. Sorry!
The journey began with me fighting with Emily – the pretentious voice of my Garmin – that woman knows everything! After driving past an open field over and over, and hearing her shout “arriving at destination on right” at least eight times, I came to the conclusion that I’d been given the wrong address. Emily is never wrong. Ever! Eventually I spotted a building that vaguely resembled the name of the place I was to visit – give or take some spelling differences and alternate phrasing. Success! I walked up a flight of very steep stairs while silently cursing myself for wearing a pair of very cute, very high sling backs. This sister had blisters by the time I reached the top. Feeling a massive sense of achievement, I marched into the reception area and before I even made it to the counter a scary lady shouted “right company, wrong place, you’re looking for assessments, surely. Go out the gate with your car, turn right, turn right and right again.” And then she vanished. Right!
So out I went. Back down painful flight of stairs. I turned right, right and right. And low and behold, right before me was desired location. No signage. I hobbled towards reception, this time flustered, lost, late and weary, psyching myself up for conversing with mechanically-minded guys – not my forte. And it started, the onslaught of words that have no meaning in my vocabulary. Worse still, the assessment guy asked me to open my bonnet and I couldn’t find the catch – mostly because I was completely dazed, like a fish out of water and on Mars (where men are allegedly from). He rolled his eyes at me and I felt a deep sense of shame. Enter random Portuguese dad-type person…
He came out of nowhere, like the hero in a bad Western film and walked around my Mini showing the assessor all the bumps and cracks. He pointed out the broken light and the miniscule hole in the rear which is barely visible – he even shone a torch on it (I was waiting for the magnifying glass, which fortunately didn’t appear). He went on and on and on using more foreign, weird words. After giving the assessor a list of instructions he made his way over to me and gave me ‘that’ glare. You know, the one your dad gives you when you’re in trouble. He then asked me if I even know how to change my tyre – I decided that rattling off the toll-free phone number of ‘BMW Assist’ was not the right answer. So I did what any daughter would do, I bit my lip and I nodded. I then pulled the only trick I had and asked him how many daughters he had – 3, incidentally. Phew! Lecture averted, but lesson learnt. I hereby promise to learn how to change my tyre by the end of the year.
I must confess that I should become more ‘car savvy’ and take responsibility for my possessions rather than rely on others to sort out my mechanical issues. It’s a safety lesson and I commit to improving. But, in the same vain, it would have helped substantially if the assessor guy had tried to explain things in a way that is understandable to people like me (as in lazy women who will give anything to avoid getting brake fluid on our hands). I’m pretty sure he could see I had no idea what he was talking about while he was rattling off a list of issues. I have a wonderful doctor; she takes the time to let me know what’s broken, where it is in my body, why it’s broken and how to fix it, in a way that I can understand. See? Successful communication.
This week, I’m being cognisant of the words I use around people who are not connected to my circle. We all have languages that fit different facets of our lives – within our family, in our culture, in our workplace and in our industry. When we forget that others don’t necessarily understand our language, we’re alienating them and create a divide between us – it defeats the whole purpose of communication.
This week, let’s be mindful of our words. Let’s be respectful. Let’s connect appropriately. Let’s truly communicate. Have a wonderful week!
Yours in heels,
Jo
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