Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Little Ms. Bossy and Little Ms. Flirty
Ok here is the deal. No one, like NO ONE, tells me to do stuff. (Except Sanil, who is an exception to every rule I have ever had in my life). No one ever tells me what to do is because I am way too responsible and do more than my own share in any case. Even my parents have never had to tell me to do things.
Hence I find myself rather ill prepared to deal with the Little Ms. Bossys of the world. Women who order others around- “Honey, please pass me the TV remote” (my delicate arms can’t stretch 2 cm to pick it up). “Make copies” (Because I would not touch a copier with my hands lest my French manicure is ruined). “Hold my hand bag please” (and yes, I know it’s pink and girly and glittery and you are already carrying your laptop bag and the groceries, but my arms would ache if I had to carry my teeny-weeny handbag).
Seriously! Girls who boss people around just simply annoy me. May be it’s because that’s a trait I have never learnt (I should trained in that instead of the silly MBA degree I opted for). Or maybe because I think everyone should shoulder their own share of responsibilities.
My theory is that people who boss others around are insecure, don’t know how to do their jobs, are inept and inefficient. They can’t survive in this world without their “back up choir”. Learn to sing solo girl! And if you can’t...take classes!
The other extreme is Little Ms. Flirty. Now I still have not decided who I can’t stand more- Little Ms. Bossy or Little Ms. Flirty.
Little Ms. Flirty has some fine traits- Chest out, smile big is the key one. Tossing hair and leaning forward also works well. And how the voice undergoes transformation when speaking to the opposite sex is a force to reckon with in its own right. There is a lilt that’s almost musical, a tease that’s almost taunting and when coupled with fluttering eyelashes- well, you have the full effect- something that no guy can resist. And Little Ms. Flirty is on her way to getting her work done, without lifting a finger.
Now you can say “sour grapes” and you would be right, because I can’t do what Little Ms. Flirty does. I wish I could though- wouldn’t life be easier if you have a man to do it all for you?
But instead of fluttering eyelashes, I make eye contact and maintain it. Instead of leaning forward, I lean back and challenge. Instead of smiling coyly, I laugh openly. Because pretence is only a glorified form of lying.
And the worst case scenario is when Little Ms. Bossy and Little Ms. Flirty gang up. What chance does me- Little Ms. Know it All- have then?
Is it too late to learn to order people around in a teasing sing-song voice?