Danger Is My Second Name

I do not hesitate much before asking a question. But direct does not mean rude. There are rules, and the first one is respect.

By Fabrice

When Janita asked me about the things we hesitate to ask, there was already a problem.

I do not hesitate very much.

The Mayor had warned her before we started. He said I would find the questions difficult because hesitation is not really my speciality. Somewhere in the discussion he decided he already had the title for the story: Danger Is My Second Name.

Maybe.

But there is a difference between asking a direct question and behaving without respect.

For me, that difference is important.

How old are you?

Janita decided to test my survival instinct.

“Have you ever asked a woman how old she is?”

“Yes. Sure. Why not?”

She looked at me as if this proved immediately that my survival instinct was not working properly.

“That’s a dangerous question.”

My solution was simple. I can run.

In fact, I told her I can run very fast when I have a woman behind me.

But I still do not really understand the problem. For me, age is a number. Some women are sensitive about it, Janita explained. Okay. I accept this. But the number itself does not change because nobody asks about it.

This is probably where our conversation started to show the problem.

I am direct. Janita is more careful. The Mayor is somewhere in the middle, normally creating trouble and then watching what happens.

But being direct does not mean that I ask everything in every situation.

Sometimes I decide not to ask. It depends on the person and the situation. If I think the question is going to create real trouble, then perhaps I leave it alone.

You can call this politeness.

You can also call it survival instinct.

Do not whistle at me.

For me, the first contact with another person is important.

There is a proverb about shouting into the forest and hearing the echo come back. The idea is simple: the way you speak to somebody influences the way that person speaks back to you.

A few years ago, I was working in a German city when somebody wanted my attention.

He whistled at me.

The first time, I gave no reaction.

Then he did it again.

And again.

After about the third time, I went over to him.

I told him that if he wanted to whistle, he could whistle for his wife or his dog. But not for me.

I am not a dog.

If you want something from me, say hello. Say hey. Speak to me. Ask your question.

That is normal respect.

I have no problem with somebody being direct with me. In fact, I prefer it. But the first approach matters. If you begin without politeness, then we already have a problem before the real conversation has even started.

Directness works in both directions.

Just ask the question.

Janita said she had a suspicion about me.

When everybody else is carefully walking around a subject, she imagined I might be the person who finally says, “Can we just ask the bloody question?”

This is much closer to how I think.

People sometimes come to you and say, “Can I ask you a question?”

Well, yes.

Just ask it.

You do not need to beat around the bush for ten minutes before arriving at the thing you wanted to say in the first place.

For me, simple is better.

Yes or no. Black or white. Not shades of grey.

Of course, sometimes a direct question goes wrong.

You ask something and suddenly see from the other person’s face that there is a problem. Maybe you have misunderstood something. Maybe the question means something different to them. Maybe you simply made a mistake.

Then you have choices.

I can apologise.

Or, depending on the situation, I can try to bring some humour into it and change the reaction.

What I do not like is the terrible silence afterwards.

That is normally worse.

If something has gone wrong, deal with it.

Direct does not mean blind.

There is another complication.

A normal question in one country may not feel normal somewhere else.

When you meet people from different backgrounds, cultures or religions, you have to pay attention. You need to be aware of whom you are asking and what the subject means to that person.

Janita explained how she handled this when she worked with people from many different cultures in South Africa.

If she wanted to know something about somebody’s language, traditions or family customs, she would first tell them that they did not have to answer if they were uncomfortable.

Most people, she said, would laugh and explain everything.

Some would say no.

Then she respected the no.

I can understand that.

There is nothing wrong with curiosity. But respect has to be mutual.

You can ask.

The other person can answer.

And the other person can also decide not to answer.

That is not very complicated.

European permission to ask what is for dinner.

Naturally, we managed to make it complicated anyway.

Janita asked me to imagine that Europe introduced a new law. Before asking somebody a personal question, you would first need an official permit.

This did not improve my opinion of the idea.

Then she found perhaps the most dangerous question of the evening:

“What’s for dinner?”

Apparently, even this may require a permit in the future.

I have another system.

If I am not allowed to ask what is for dinner, I go to the fridge.

I open it.

Eggs? Chicken? Ham?

Good.

I eat.

The Mayor called this revolutionary behaviour. I think it is simply practical.

Janita suggested that perhaps the politically correct version would be to avoid the question completely and begin with a proposal: “I suggest we have chicken for dinner.”

Now the simple question has become a negotiation.

This is exactly the problem I sometimes have with political correctness. We can make something complicated before we have even said anything.

Janita tried another test.

“Fabrice, do you like pineapple on pizza?”

No.

Definitely no.

There are limits to everything.

Perhaps there is some grey after all.

At the end, the Mayor tried to summarise me.

For Fabrice, he said, the world is black and white.

Keep it simple.

There is some truth in that, but not completely.

When I meet somebody for the first time, I do not know that person yet. The first impression can change.

So perhaps, in the beginning, the person is grey.

Then you talk.

You meet again.

You have one discussion, then another, perhaps a third.

After that, you know more.

Then you can decide.

That is maybe the part that was missing from “black or white.”

Being direct does not mean making a judgement before you know somebody. It means that when the moment comes to ask something, I prefer a clear question to ten minutes of dancing around it.

Start with politeness.

Show respect.

Pay attention to the person in front of you.

And then ask the question.

If it goes wrong, apologise.

If possible, laugh.

And if somebody asks how old you are, there is always one final solution.

Run.