I call advice columns my stories and I enjoy reading them just as a peek into other people’s lives. However, I find most of the answers unsatisfactory, even from the columnists I usually agree with. The only advice column that I think is good 90% of the time is Ask A Manager, and she has her weird spots, too. But at least they are well-established and relatively harmless (like she is pro-pranks, as long as they don’t make others the butt of a joke or hurt them). I am firmly anti-pranks because even the so-called harmless ones are still mildly based on making someone else the butt of a joke.
But, in general, she gives thoughtful responses that take several things into account. I think she leans towards giving managers the benefit of the doubt too much, but not unreasonably so. And I love that she will occasionally publish a weird letter that has little to do with work just because she wants to. In addition, she pushes people to unionize and to protest when it’s warranted. She has a history of protesting with PETA and other political groups, so she’s comfortable advocating for it. She gives practical advice on how to do it and what to expect in response, so it’s not just her being pie-in-the-sky.
And, the commenters on that website are the best I’ve read in an advice column. In fact, they are the only comments I read. I’ve tried to read others and have been dismayed at how limited the commenters have been. For example, I peeked into the comments on several Slate articles and the viewpoints were so limited. I will note that the commentariat at Ask A Manager is overwhelmingly female–I think 90%. There seem to be more men commenting on Slate advice columns, though I have no empirical data that supports my supposition.
It’s well-known that men think they’re the experts in, well, everything. And we all tend to think our own experiences are the norm. Except me. I am a freak in so many ways, I never had the luxury of thinking that I was normal. But most people think what they went through was the norm and that everything else is an outlier. Multiple that with men actually being the norm much of the time and it’s no wonder that they think they’re the standard-bearer, especially cis het white men.
It’s one thing to acknowledge that I’m a freak. It’s another to have it rubbed into my face how different I am from everyone. I’m already shaving off pieces of my personality in order not to be TOO weird, and I don’t want to bland myself up any more.
Here’s the thing. Yes, I’m weird and different on almost every subject. However, I’m not weird enough to fit into artistic circles. I don’t drink and I don’t do drugs. I don’t like to be around people who do because they act in ways that make me uncomfortable (including pawing at me and not stopping said pawing). No one is as smart or insightful as they think they are when they’re falling off their tits drunk or high. They are not scintillating or coming up with brilliant ideas. They are not making meaningful connections (at least not with me). I haven’t had a drink in over a decade and even that was just because it was my birthday.
I am careful not to talk above people’s heads, but it can be difficult at times not to tell people about themselves. I’m really good at reading cues and I do it automatically. So I have to make a conscious effort not to reveal something that someone else has not revealed. In addition, I just know things about people that they hadn’t told me themselves. It’s really not on to say to someone, “Oh, yeah. I knew that. No, you never told me, but I intuited it.”
It’s funny because there was a woman on AAM who said something about there not being any empaths. She just stated it with nothing to back her up. I didn’t feel like taking her on, but it’s not true. I am an empath. A highly-sensitive person. An intuitive. Whatever you want to call it, though I rarely say it myself. This is something I do hide from the world because, let’s face it, no one in comfortable with someone who knows more about them than they do themselves.
I realized at a fairly young age that I could read people really well. Like, extremely well. 95% of people 95% of the time. I could tell what their motive was even if they couldn’t, and I knew the dark stuff they would rather keep hidden. Again, it’s hard to say for sure because it’s not something you can casually bring up to people.
Or maybe I could. I’m not sure. There was one time when I was talking with a woman who was a mother. Or rather, she was babbling at me as she was drunk and felt the need to spill. I was a natural target, and she went on for hours about her problems with her son. He was in high school and going through a difficult phase. He and his friends were smoking too much pot, and she did not know what to do about it. The problem was that she and her partner smoked a lot of pot themselves. A lot. And they did it in front of her son. Often.
I could have told her that she was feeling guilty because of her own free use in front of him, but what good would it have done? She did not want to see it or make that connection, and she was a friend of a friend–not my direct friend. if she was my friend, i would have said something directly, but as she was not, I didn’t feel it was my place.
Also, I wasn’t invested in our relationship because we didn’t have one. That’s the thing. If it’s an acquaintance or a friend of a friend, there is nothing in it for me to tell someone about themselves. If it’s someone I know, there’s more reason for me to do so. One thing I appreciate about my brother is that we are completely honest with each other. I can say anything to him without him taking offense. In fact, it’s one reason I’m less cautious with him–he tales very little personally.
Still. I thought he knew he was on the spectrum when I mentioned it to him. It hit him hard and he told me it changed his life by making everything fall into place. He has brought it up several times and how it has made everything better, and I am of two minds. I wish I had told him earlier. I regret that I had just assumed he had already known. I mean, it was so obvious to me, how could it not be obvious to him?
This is me all the time, though. I see things that other people don’t see and just take it for granted that it’s obvious. I still don’t always know when it’s appropriate to tell people about themselves and when it’s not. I don’t want to rattle people, but it could be helpful. On the other hand, it’s hard to get people to see something about themselves that isn’t a pleasant or positive thing. It’s something I’ll have to think more about; I don’t have any conclusion right now.