My blueberries did not scan first time. The supermarket assistant tried again. And then figured it might be quicker, and more straightforward, to manually enter the product code. It worked. The label hadn't.
They don't always. Within the briefest of interactions, which could not have lasted more than a minute the member of staff had used a gender specific pronoun no less than three times. Each time completely, I felt, unnecessarily.
I felt riled up. But I did not let on. Instead, I enquired whether I might make a suggestion which was immediately welcomed. I explained that whilst I hadn't been offended or insulted, the use of the word 'Miss' might well alienate some shoppers.
The person to whom I addressed my concerns looked, at first, quizzical. Then increasingly perplexed... It was obvious that this wasn't a suggestion of the variety that they had foreseen.
They proceeded to recollect an experience where it had been suggested that 'Madam' might be preferable. I refuted this, with growing energy, eager that they might see the point; highlighting the assumption to be found in either.
I expanded, drawing attention to the name badge I could see, placed in a prominent position, presumably as a required part of the standard uniform. I compared the unadorned breast pocket of my own denim jacket.
Labels (when placed with care) are perhaps useful on boxes of blueberries. They have little, if any, use when it comes to people we don't know, and are unlikely to get to know when we make assumptions based on our conditioned interpretations of their outward appearance.
The supermarket assistant thanked me profusely, communicating (what I felt to be sincere) gratitude for 'an outside opinion'. I walked away feeling hopeful that I might have prompted someone to think twice before they jump to a conclusion that might negatively impact someone's afternoon, day or week.
No gender specific pronouns have been used in this post.
That's because they're often quite superfluous.
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