True story:
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Many years ago, our company hired a subcontractor to prepare a set of documentation on our behalf. The subcontractor sent someone to our company, and I was designated to act as the company's intermediary.
After one of our meetings, I accompanied her to the receptionist's desk, as is customary. While waiting for the elevator, she made a remark about her 18-year-old son. My face must have registered involuntary surprise—she looked extremely young.
Without missing a beat, she acidly retorted:
"I started having sex when I was twelve."
I smiled feebly.
Not satisfied with scoring a direct hit to the proverbial jugular, she said, after stepping into an elevator with others:
"So when did you start having sex?"
I ignored the question, and continued to meet with her, pretending that the interaction did not occur.
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Now, I can appreciate that our service-provider was probably fed up with being mistaken for being very young (even if most people aren't). I can also appreciate that what is mildly annoying, can turn into a Chinese water torture with enough repetition. What I cannot accept is that this woman, by any stretch of the imagination, could be described as marginalized. Quite the contrary.
Had I pulled such a stunt with a customer, of all people, and the customer decided to complain to my supervisor, I would have been fired the same day. Something tells me that I was not the first person to whom she spoke that way, nor did she seem particularly worried about any consequences that might arise from her liberated reaction to my micro-aggressive facial expression.