Moments of truth occur in the oddest places. For me, it was the women's restroom at the Super America in Baxter, MN. I was in the SuperAmerica getting directions and while I was there decided to use the facilities.
I was not alone. A mom and a four year old in hot pink snow boots who sang out "TA DA!" when she had completed her business were also in there.
As I turned my head to smile at the young girl, she immediately blurted out to her mom,
" What's wrong with her eye?"
I would imagine for the mom it was one of those , "Boy did my face turn red moments."
Acting casual and nonchalant, as if this is a question I get asked every day, I said,
" Yes, I do have funny looking eyes. They don't blink together."
The girl accepted my answer. The mom smiled. For them, the moment had passed.
Not for me. Because the reason that I was in the restroom in the Super America in Baxter, Minnesota was that I was beginning three days of workshops, in three separate communities,to three groups who knew nothing about me.
Whenever I meet someone new, or speak to a group that hasn't met me before, I know that "my eye" is the white elephant in the room.
But business etiquette demands that I say nothing about my eye.
Business etiquette demands that people who notice my eye, remain silent.
Business etiquette demands that I act as if there is nothing peculiar about someone who has "independent blinkers."
Business etiquette demands that I pretend that people aren't thinking about my eye when I want them to be thinking about what I am presenting.
People don'
t ask. I don't tell. And I try not to let my picasso-esque appearance infilitrate my mind as I'm trying to build a rapport with complete strangers. Knowing you are odd looking can be a confidence deflator...even after 13 years.
But this bathroom candor -- brought up something I've struggled with for 13 years---To say or not to say that I had shingles and it paralyzed the left side of my face. The remnant is a left eye gone wild.
Over the years I have discussed this with business associates and unanimously they say, " it's not noticiable and you absolutely shouldn't mention it. It will make people think you are too self conscious, they say.
Counter my new four year old friend who glanced at my face for a nanosecond and immediately saw that things were not working the way most faces work.
Her innocent question served as a powerful reminder that (a) my eye is noticeable and (b) whether or not people say it out loud, they'd like to ask the exact same question.
My personal preference would be to acknowledge my appearance. I share other things. I tell them I can't spell well. I tell them work anecdotes. Yet, if I ,in an offhanded light manner, mention that I have a entertaining left eye, I'm somehow breaching business etiquette.
I don't get it. But I have been assured by many people who I respect that by mentioning the shingles I will be creating more problems.
And so I give my eye the silent treatment, hoping participants in the workshop will adjust to my appearance and forget about in a blink of the eye.
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