No, not Grandparents.
I was on the local bus here in Oxford today on my way to a resaurant, in time for a meal booked at six. There is a place near here that catches it's own trout from the river the other side of the car park.
There were schoolkids on the bus, and one was striking. She was a beautiful blonde, no more than 15 years old, and was made up just as if she were about to go to a disco, but in a school uniform. She wore eyeshadow, eyeliner, lipstick, plucked eyebrows and wore purple nail varnish. She held herself, as most teens that age do, as if she knew everything, chatting to her mate every minute or so, flicking her exquistitely groomed hair every now and then.
Then came the Oxford students, and two girls got on and sat not far away. Over the aisle, they talked about their chosen subjects and lots of others. They wore neither makeup nor had any pretensions, and leaned toward each other eager to catch the other's opinion.
The juxtaposition was striking.
The first girl, a youngster who thought she knew everything.
The second two, only a few years older, knowing they DID NOT know everything.
I was fascinated.
It developed into a contrast when the younger one noticed the others. She made it clear by a mere expression that she despised them.
The observation is that people often give their opinion away by mere body language, and others, who simply want to learn, are not bothered by it what they convey to others.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
The Generation Generation Gap
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1 comment:
This post about the Disco Blond teenage girl, along with what I will call: Socrates Oxford daughters, riding on the same bus together, is amusing. It also brings to mind a bit of irony about life I have encountered over the years.
In my school days teachers often admonished students to write clearly, so others could read what we wrote. Most of us, fearing the wrath of the teacher, attempted to comply with the demand to write nice and neat; so she or anyone else could read what we wrote. This was suppose to serve us well when we entered the work world someday. However, there was always one fellow, who never complied. That recalcitrant person earned the wrath of the teacher, of course. Yet, the irony is this:
Many managers I have worked for have had terrible handwriting skills. They are obviously the recalcitrant student I mentioned. They never pretend they can write, but they do expect you to read their writing. Some will even demand it.
This leads me to the following conclusion. Someday when all these ladies on the bus are working for the same company, the blond girl will be the boss/manager of the Oxford girls. In fact it should be obvious this will be true of Miss Know-it-all. Afterall, haven't you ever heard of "blond ambition"? ;-)
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