There is a running joke in my family and among friends that my nickname should be, Forget Me Not. With remarkable frequency, I am the one whose package is delivered with eleven of the promised dozen somethings, my dinner plate arrives minus the ordered baked potato, I am skipped over on a waitlist, etc. The evening I explained this phenomenon to my brother, he scoffed at the notion – until all at the table were served the drinks they had ordered, except me. I was served nothing. The waiter apologized and said he had somehow missed me.
This particular trait is generally more amusing than annoying. It can hardly be said of me that I am shy and retiring or that I don’t speak clearly or loudly. In fact… Sometimes, however, being invisible takes on greater weight.
Last week I called the Toyota dealer from whom I have purchased two cars to make an appointment to have my Miata serviced. I bought the Mazda elsewhere, but I have had it serviced at this site. The young woman in the Service Department was pleasant, but she could find no record of me or my cars. The only way to track down my history, in fact, was to give her the VIN number. “Oh,” she said, “It’s under Gary Glass.”
Huh. Really? I am the one who bought both cars and the only one who has brought any of them in for servicing. My husband’s name is on the title of both Toyotas because, should anything happen to me, he would not have to hassle with ownership questions. He has never written a check or used his credit card with them, nor has he scheduled any appointments. Yet the assumption, apparently, was that his name, not mine, was the appropriate one under which to file any records. No one asked me. No one asked him. He wasn’t even there when I finalized the purchase of the last vehicle – though the dealership did ask me if I didn’t want him to come in for final approval. The kind of question that could have motivated me to take my business elsewhere, had I not been two months into the process.
I’m still a bit stunned, despite the fact that I should “know better.” What is it about our society that stillautomatically defers to men? In the future, I will make very clear that any business dealings with me must, in fact, be with me, or I will find another source. I’m tired of automatic relegation to second class citizenship. If you think it’s no big deal, consider Texas.
Glass Full 