'If there is something you don't want Mom to know,' my younger daughter would often say, 'whatever you do, don't tell it to Dad.'
Well, she was right. A particular component is apparently missing from my brain, that being whatever part distinguishes between general information and privileged information.
Many a time, teary-eyed with anger, Jamila would remonstrate with me about my big mouth, and I would say 'Jamila, if there's something you don't want your mom to know, don't tell it to me!'
The component, as I have said, is missing. It does not 'learn' over time, it does not 'adjust', because it is simply not there. I'm like a deaf version of Pavlov's dog. I don't hear the bell, therefore I don't know that the ringing of the bell means food, and consequentially fail to salivate.
If some piece of shared information is supposed to be a secret, this needs to be announced with unmistakable clarity.
So it happens that Peter, a resident at the apartment complex, or villa, where I live, is angry at me and no longer speaking to me.
He has been unhappy with a number of things at the villa. There has been a problem with the water in general, with the hot water, with the AC units, with the wifi, and he happened to mention to me that he was looking for other places to live.
Good enough, and quite understandable, and actually fairly predictable. Why then would I consider this information secret, something to be guarded? A little later on, Sia, one of the owners of the villa, was chatting with me about Peter's complaints, which had reached her on multiple occasions through multiple WhatsApp messages, and I mentioned, being also aware of the complaints, that Peter was thinking of moving out.
Well, the next day, I began to receive angry WhatsApp messages from Peter. You shouldn't go around sharing private things! How would you like it if I told everyone everything about you? You betrayed my trust!
But … but, Peter … I didn't know it was a secret. What's so bad about looking for another place? We are all free to live wherever we choose, aren't we? I mean, my goodness, I had no idea this was a secret.
Well, my explanations were to no avail. Peter has said his piece and is no longer speaking to me. Nor WhatsApp-ing me, for that matter.
Should I have known this was a secret? I still don't understand why it was a secret. Is that only because of the component that is missing from my brain?
The safest thing, as I told my daughter, is to simply not share secrets with me. As for myself, I try not to have them. If something is secret, it is pretty likely to be unworthy as well.
Well, she was right. A particular component is apparently missing from my brain, that being whatever part distinguishes between general information and privileged information.
Many a time, teary-eyed with anger, Jamila would remonstrate with me about my big mouth, and I would say 'Jamila, if there's something you don't want your mom to know, don't tell it to me!'
The component, as I have said, is missing. It does not 'learn' over time, it does not 'adjust', because it is simply not there. I'm like a deaf version of Pavlov's dog. I don't hear the bell, therefore I don't know that the ringing of the bell means food, and consequentially fail to salivate.
If some piece of shared information is supposed to be a secret, this needs to be announced with unmistakable clarity.
So it happens that Peter, a resident at the apartment complex, or villa, where I live, is angry at me and no longer speaking to me.
He has been unhappy with a number of things at the villa. There has been a problem with the water in general, with the hot water, with the AC units, with the wifi, and he happened to mention to me that he was looking for other places to live.
Good enough, and quite understandable, and actually fairly predictable. Why then would I consider this information secret, something to be guarded? A little later on, Sia, one of the owners of the villa, was chatting with me about Peter's complaints, which had reached her on multiple occasions through multiple WhatsApp messages, and I mentioned, being also aware of the complaints, that Peter was thinking of moving out.
Well, the next day, I began to receive angry WhatsApp messages from Peter. You shouldn't go around sharing private things! How would you like it if I told everyone everything about you? You betrayed my trust!
But … but, Peter … I didn't know it was a secret. What's so bad about looking for another place? We are all free to live wherever we choose, aren't we? I mean, my goodness, I had no idea this was a secret.
Well, my explanations were to no avail. Peter has said his piece and is no longer speaking to me. Nor WhatsApp-ing me, for that matter.
Should I have known this was a secret? I still don't understand why it was a secret. Is that only because of the component that is missing from my brain?
The safest thing, as I told my daughter, is to simply not share secrets with me. As for myself, I try not to have them. If something is secret, it is pretty likely to be unworthy as well.
2 comments:
The person who needs to change is Peter. He needs to learn to preface confidential information with “this is a secret.”
the queen--Thanks for that. I will often be second guessing myself, thinking that I should have known something that wasn't specifically stated.
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