Pastels and Pleats in a Truckstop – A Lesson in Cultural Awareness (Updated)
The 1980’s were not known for their contribution to high fashion.
For the most part, I didn’t care. My wardrobe of choice consisted of cotton shirts (preferably black), blue jeans, and if I could get away with it, cowboy boots (otherwise known as a man’s timeless classic).
My wife on the other hand, felt that this wardrobe choice needed adjustment, and by adjustment she meant anything that wasn’t a black top, blue jeans, and boots.
So… when shopping for clothes, she selected items that were currently in style – pants that had a pleated front and cuffs, shirts that had collars that seemed to extend to your belly button, shoes that were the exact opposite of boots, and all in colours that I can only say reflected the genteel hues of a summer flower garden.
I normally could avoid the pastels and pleats as I came to call them, since many of the people in my workplace dressed in my version of 'normal'. She hid her disappointment well.
One day I was told I needed to go to one of the other sites of the company I worked for and deliver some training.
My darling wife offered to pack my suitcase for the trip. I foolishly said yes.
The site was in the back woods of West Virginia. (You may see what’s coming…)
Getting to this remote area, I had to take a tiny commuter plane, and we arrived at the airport (if you could call it that) in the midst of a rainstorm. On the plane there were two other passengers… both military gents, and by the number of ribbons on their uniforms, they were fairly senior officers.
The airport was the kind of place where the same person guides the plane in, unloads the bags, runs the ticket counter, and also covers the car rental.
I had arranged to rent a mid-size car on my arrival.
In the lot were two cars. A midsize car, and a Chevrolet Chevette.
This was the era when a ‘midsize’ car was the size of a Sherman tank. The Chevette was the economy car of economy cars… it was the size of a riding lawn mower and had slightly less acceleration than a boulder. It was not so affectionately known as the “Shove-it” because if you encountered a steep hill, you may have been better off to get out of the car and push.
When the two military officers walked up to the car rental counter, guess which vehicle they were given?
You are correct.
I was handed the keys to the Chevette.
I threw my suitcase in the back of the car and drove to the hotel.
My traveling clothes were a mess from the rainstorm so I unzipped the suitcase to pull out a change of clothing.
Neatly packed in that suitcase were my pleated pants, pastel shirts, and stylish shoes. Not a bit of denim or black cotton in sight!
I reluctantly got ready the next morning and headed into the plant where everybody was wearing, you guessed it, cotton shirts, jeans and boots.
They seemed mildly amused at my clown outfit, but after all, I was from Canada, maybe things were different up thar’.
We got through the morning’s training session and it came time for lunch.
Every member of the training session had brought their lunch, so I asked about local restaurants.
The only eatery in the area was a truck stop a few minutes away.
So… I got into my Chevette and drove to the truck stop.
Alone.
It was the kind of place where everyone could sit in a booth by the windows and watch the comings and goings.
Which means that when I pulled that little car into a parking space among all the pickup trucks (the local vehicle of choice), they noticed.
They noticed when I got out of the car in my pastels and pleats and came through the door.
I know they noticed because as I entered the restaurant, the place went dead quiet. (I am not making this up).
At that moment, I didn’t know if I would ever walk out of that place.
I realized that I could do one of two things.
Turn tail and leave, in which case I would not only have to live with the shame but also miss lunch, or…
… enter the place, sit down and try to act as normal as possible, which I did.
Thankfully the server was gracious (perhaps she secretly wanted to dress her husband up) and I didn’t get beat up.
But I did leave there vowing to never, ever let my wife pack my bags for me again.
So… what did I learn?
Believe it or not, I learned a lot that day.
If I had been culturally aware, I would have never packed pastels and pleats for a visit to West Virginia back country. If I had worn my jeans, boots and cotton shirt, nobody would have paid much attention to me (aside from the clown car) as I entered the restaurant.
It’s the reason in my last job, I wrapped a tie around my neck every morning even though I would much prefer to never wear one of these beastie things.
My current job is a tad more casual. I can get away with jeans, but the boots (lovingly hid from my wife so they don't go to Goodwill) at my current job would be inappropriate, and a great deal of energy would be required to get people to the same point of engagement as I easily do when I’m dressed in the ‘uniform’ of my role.
Being culturally aware removes so many barriers to engagement with others.
It’s not becoming LIKE those who are of a different culture, but it is about respecting their culture.
It’s about finding out what is important to them, rather than insisting that your ways and culture is superior.
So my near death experience in West Virginia has prepared me to be more effective in my role so many years later.
How about you?
What’s your cultural awareness story?
__________________________________________________________________
Images: Used under creative commons license.
About the Author:
I'm convinced that IT leadership needs to dramatically change how IT is delivered rather than being relegated to a costly overhead department.
In addition to transforming IT in my role as CIO, I look for every opportunity to talk about this... writing, speaking and now blogging on BeBee (www.bebee.com/@kevin-pashuk) , LinkedIn, ITWorld Canada, or at TurningTechInvisible.com.
I also shoot things... with my camera. Check out my photostream at www.flickr.com/photos/kwpashuk
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Comments
Kevin Pashuk
5 years ago #38
Kevin Pashuk
6 years ago #37
Thanks Franci. Rest assured that there are NO pastel coloured clothing or pleats to be found in my closet, and I have packed my own bags in the years since that incident.
don kerr
6 years ago #36
Kevin Pashuk
6 years ago #35
Wayne Yoshida
7 years ago #34
#49 -- Yes, it so great to have friends like that. I'm very thankful.
Kevin Pashuk
7 years ago #33
I had thought that Scottish ballet involve swords on the ground, not tutus, to make it infinitely more dangerous, which seems to be the Scottish way of doing things (Why do it the easy way?) I guess that is why the Scots keep discovering things.
Ken Boddie
7 years ago #32
I wonder if the Scottish Ballet Company has thought of tartan tutus?
Kevin Pashuk
7 years ago #31
Kevin Pashuk
7 years ago #30
I think you'd get away with a kilt Ken, but if you showed up in a tutu, that would be a much different story.
Kevin Pashuk
7 years ago #29
Another great story Wayne. I often use a similar example to describe the type of community that people thrive in... When your car breaks down at 2 am (or 200 miles from home), do you have someone you can call who will come and get you?
Kevin Pashuk
7 years ago #28
Thanks Lisa. I do remember the Gremlins and their chubby cousin - the Pacer. It was a fate worse than death for a teenager to be seen in one of those. https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/f0/AMC_Pacer_1975-1978.jpg
Kevin Pashuk
7 years ago #27
Loved that story Wayne, especially the part where you found humor in the situation. Thanks for sharing.
Susan 🐝 Rooks, The Grammar Goddess
7 years ago #26
Lisa Gallagher
7 years ago #25
wow Wayne Yoshida, what a great friend! I remember the ham radios. How times have changed!
Lisa Gallagher
7 years ago #24
haha, great story Wayne Yoshida!! Humor always helps to break the ice!
Ken Boddie
7 years ago #23
Wayne Yoshida
7 years ago #22
Wait. Lisa -- (and Kevin, too) -- The Chevy Shove-Itt. I have a great memory about one of those. In the same yellow, too. I went on a road trip with a friend from work. It was planned to be a long weekend of driving and sight-seeing in New England. We were starting from Newington, CT and going to a big electronics and radio swap meet (yeah, very nerdy) in Deerfield, NH. . . but we never got there. My old pickup truck breaks the driveshaft somewhere near Boston. It was April, so the weather was not too cold. . . We were totally stuck. Since we had ham radio in the truck, we called out for help. Finally managed to get someone to respond, and call the troopers. It took hours for them to respond - we were at some junction or division of jurisdiction and two counties U-turned near where we were stuck. Finally, got a tow to a garage. No replacement parts. I had to leave the truck behind and get back home. We were about 200 or more miles away from home. I call a friend back home. I ask Ed if he could do us a real favor - pick us up and take us home. Oh - we are near Boston. . . And he did. Ed and his wife come all the way to Boston on a very late Saturday night to pick us up. And he didn't ask for anything in return. What a great friend. In his yellow Chevy Shove-Itt. . . . with four people in the car . . . I took Ed and his wife out to a great restaurant the following weekend.
Lisa Gallagher
7 years ago #21
Wayne Yoshida
7 years ago #20
Wayne Yoshida
7 years ago #19
Excellent story Jim!
Kevin Pashuk
7 years ago #18
Thanks KAK...
Kevin Pashuk
7 years ago #17
Thanks Dean. Personally I'll never end up on the cover of GQ... but you seem to be a perpetually snappy dresser.
Kevin Pashuk
7 years ago #16
I could hear the banjo music playing in the background...
Kevin Pashuk
7 years ago #15
I am not going there Randy...
Randy Keho
7 years ago #14
don kerr
7 years ago #13
Dean Owen
7 years ago #12
Kevin Pashuk
7 years ago #11
I think you've described exactly what I was thinking at the moment Brian.
Kevin Pashuk
7 years ago #10
Puffy shirts were in her repertoire Paul. Thankfully she somehow missed them on this trip.
Paul Walters
7 years ago #9
Jim Murray
7 years ago #8
Kevin Pashuk
7 years ago #7
Keep in mind Gerald another Canadian thing... the appreciation of a fine brew, and you will realize that the six pack insulation comes very easily, but does not go anywhere near as quickly.
Kevin Pashuk
7 years ago #6
Thanks for your comments David. I still have a six pack, but it's well insulated.
Kevin Pashuk
7 years ago #5
Thanks Laurent!
Laurent Boscherini
7 years ago #4
Kevin Pashuk
7 years ago #3
Looking forward to your post Renée.
Graham🐝 Edwards
7 years ago #2
Kevin Pashuk
7 years ago #1
Thanks Gerald. A little respect goes oh so far in building relationships (and affinities).