So, I was exiting a cab in front of my home the other day, and came upon my neighbour who lives across the street. He’s a tiny little guy, and seemingly friendly enough, based on the brief hello’s we’ve exchanged in the past. However, he is one of the big contributors to the excess noise that plagues my end of the street…so needless to say, without even knowing him—I’m not a fan. He and his friends would have almost nightly summer fireside parties in his front yard, complete with sing-a-longs and loud music and heated debates about this and that; Fine and harmless if I were not just a few steps away and requiring 7 hours of sleep per night in order to be a functioning human. I was, in fact, in the process of drafting a letter to give him after doing some research on the subject of addressing such an issue. Despite the fact that I was holding many bags of groceries, he positioned himself as to engage in conversation with me. This is pretty much how it went: Guy: “I’ve been evicted!” Me: “Oh no!!” (In my head I’m really doing the happy dance right then) Guy: “The neighbour on the other side of the duplex had a problem with noise, which is stupid because none of the others did.” Me: I nod sympathetically (In my head) Probably because the rest of your surrounding neighbours were at your parties. I can’t imagine sharing a wall with you. You would have seen me on the news in handcuffs. Guy: “This is the 36th time I’ve been evicted. It’s no biggie.” (He laughs) Me: (In my head) 36??? *I do the math. It hurt a little. Guy: “We were just trying to have some fun.” Me: (Very much out loud, but nicely) “Well, you need to understand that many folks get up early and go to sleep early as a result. Your noise bothers me too. Perhaps you should look at renting a house and soundproofing.” Guy: “I’m going to move back to Westlock and live with my family. I won’t even have to pay rent.” Me: “If I don’t see you again, I wish you the best of luck.” Guy: “You know, we always refer to you as the White Collar girl in the neighborhood.” Me: “Why is that?” Guy: “The way you talk. The way you dress.” Me: (In my head) I review the times we’ve met or seen each other. We’d never really spoken, and he’s seen me almost exclusively in workout wear. Me: “I’ve never considered myself white…or blue-collar. Labels aren’t really my thing.” Guy: *Nothing Me: “Well, nice chatting with you. I need to get this food into the fridge. Again, good luck.” Guy: “Thank you.” Funny, our chat was on my mind well into the evening. I’ll admit, I was hugely relieved to hear of his pending departure from the neighbourhood, but more than that—I was thinking about his “White Collar” comment. I’ve been around many groups of people who would be considered either white or blue Collar by definition, most distinctly on various busses/trains during my travels. If you ride the 23 over to the southeast, you will find a predominantly blue collar crowd; whereas taking the C-train down 7th at lunchtime means the while collar folks will dominate. I’ve chatted with many people who would see themselves fitting into one of these categories…and here’s the thing: Both groups seem to kind of scoff at the other…but the white collar folks usually think blue collar people want to “move up” to be them. This is not usually the case. All in all (as I told my neighbour), I think it’s all just another way we willfully segregate ourselves/each other in order to make ourselves feel good. And so, I’ll continue to be “No collar”…or perhaps “Eggplant collar”, as that is my favorite color—and I think it would bring out my eyes. Just quit trying to put me in your boxes…or corners—or fences. Please.
Posted on: Mon, 30 Jun 2014 19:06:16 +0000
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