On Friday I was picked up by the bus and was being strapped in for the ride to work. The driver surprised me by saying, 'I'm taking you up to Vita, right?' I was taken aback because few of the drivers know of the organization just by it's address. He then told me that he used to drive for another company and for three and a half years he drove several of our members to the day programme downstairs from head office.
Just as he pulled the last strap tight he said, 'Beautiful girls work there, beautiful.'
I nodded. I get a wee bit uncomfortable with discussing the physical attributes of fellow staff. I may notice that some are young and attractive but I simply won't say it. There's this thing about heirarchy and power wherein I think it's best to just wrap yourself in boundaries. Safety for all means that those in power govern themselves well. So, I just nodded.
On the ride up we were all quiet and I thought, maybe, I'd come off as a little cold. So when the driver began chatting again about the old days driving up to Vita he again said, 'Such beautiful girls there.' And I said, 'Yes, they are pretty.'
He said, shocked, 'Oh, yes, I guess they are pretty.'
'Pardon me?' I asked.
'English is not my first language and sometimes I say things wrong. I did not mean pretty. Pretty doesn't mean anything. It takes kindness to be beautiful. The girls there, they are full of beautiful.'
I smiled and said, 'Every day I get to go to work and have the opportunity to spend eight hours being beautiful.'
He laughed and said, 'Me, in my job too.'