"I know you come from money"

That’s what my boss said to me today. I was standing in the door to his office at the time, probably smiling. I hadn’t yet realized that he was a kid holding a slingshot, and maybe he hadn’t either. I wanted to say, “You don’t know anything about me.” I wanted to say, “Actually, I come from parents,” or “Really? And what else do you know about me?” Because I knew there was more - had to be - he’d let slip just one line of an entire script he’d written for me - to explain (away) who I was.

I said, “If I came from money, I’d dress better than this.”  And then I smiled again, but it was a different smile.

I wondered if he thought I’d bought my seat at fancy-pants university and slid into our home in Toronto the way girls of my fictional upbringing slide into limos. Which of my pitfalls and minor successes had been written off to the grace of breeding? There was a snarl in his voice - the comment had slipped out - he'd meant his insight to remain secret.  After all, this fashionably corporate fellow  days ago put all of his employees through a grueling judgment-free personality test. (I am an ISDC! He’s a DICs!). ("You're a WHAT? he'd said, really? No!).  No need for that test. He already knew everything he needed to know about me.

In my discomfort and anger today, I wondered what constitutes “knowing" someone in his world. And I wondered whether knowing what somebody wasn't (honest, say, or good under pressure) would be just as instructive. So I've compiled a list for him. He'll never see it.  He'll never ask. Just as he'll never ask where I grew up, or what I like to do...

I’ve...
Never kissed a girl
Never scored in over time
Never starred in a play
Never snorted cocaine
Never won a road race
Never jumped from an airplane
Never told a joke in Chinese
Never sent a man to prison without crying
Never thrown a punch to a face
Never read the bible
Never saved a human life
Never shtuped a married
Never played to lose