Saskia Hand-Me-Down. December 2012.
I’m not sure when it happened, but I’ve become the kind of unpleasant person who responds to a compliment on an article of clothing with how much it cost and where I got it. Out with coworkers for Happy Hour last night, David-from-Accounting told me that he liked my sweatshirt. I said, “Thanks! Three bucks. Old Navy.” I am only one small step above the individual who, upon being told “Those are great jeans”, comes back with, “These? Ugh! They’re super old and make me look fat.” I wasn’t raised in a barn. Patty loves a bargain, but when given a compliment, I’ve never heard her reply, “Thanks. 17 dollars. Jordan Marsh. 1987.” Manners are relative. I’m comfortable discussing poop (daily) at work. But the realization that I have not been accepting compliments gracefully is inexcusable. For shame, me.
julie warshaw 