In the more than 10 years I've worked in my current position, I've run across all kinds of people. We seem to serve relatively equal proportions of racist southerners and inconsiderate northerners. Thankfully, in both instances, they are extraordinarily small percentages of our overall clientele and both are to be expected in our small southern bedroom community. For the most part our clients tend to fall somewhere in the middle. Whether rich or poor, white or black, well educated or not, young or old, they are mostly ideologically mediocre, kind, middle-of-the-road Americans. They are in need of our service, stressed about what is usually a major life event and grateful to have someone else worrying about it for awhile.
In those instances when a client is particularly appreciative or when we have rendered extraordinary service in some way, it is not unusual for us to receive small gifts. Over the course of my career I have received from our varied clientele gift cards, modest jewelry, chocolates, baked goods, wine, liquor and fruits. All of them delicious or beautiful and so incredibly appreciated. In fact, Rick and I enjoyed the most expensive dinner we have ever shared courtesy of a very generous client's Christmas gift.
But not until today had anyone given me lingerie. Well not lingerie exactly, but close enough. I was thanked for my hard work today in a meeting with a client with a gift card for Victoria Secret. I wish i could remember all the things that ran through my mind bin slow motion as i watched him with a huge grin take our that little pink box and say, "And this is for you." The implicit sexual objectification was probably the first thing followed by a full 10 seconds of me running through all of the possible responses to this horrifically embarrassing moment. But,I'm a good southern girl. I know how to smile pleasantly and graciously say thank you, which I did. I mean, I didn't want to be rude. But as my face turned several varrying shades of red and I stammered over my response, all I was thinking was "You have got to be fucking kidding me! On what planet is it acceptable for a 60+ year old man to give a young(ish) woman providing professional services a gift card for lingerie?"
The answer, of course, is: in a southern small town. My client was very grateful for work I did that went beyond the normal standard of care. Something I'm proud to do pretty routinely. And he showed his appreciation in a way that, to him, seems completely reasonable and appropriate. He even remarked to me about his knowledge that all women love to spend money at the mall. And, as the recipient of that gift in a small Southern town, I'm not at liberty to educate him about the several ways his well-meaning gift was offensive. No. I smile and say thank you. And comment about how I'll have to try and get there during the semi-annual sale when, in truth, I won't be going ever because Victoria Secret doesn't sell bras in an H cup. He will never know that his comment was offensive because for me to tell him so would serve no useful purpose in a small southern town except to lose us a client and label me as a difficult-to-get-along-with, ungrateful, "feminist-type."
So I'll take my gift card and buy something for someone else, which will make me happy, knowing that I am so grateful to my client for expressing his appreciation for my hard work, even if he doesn't know how sexist it was.
