Among these lessons, I observed some new and exciting language I could use when I was angry. I received a lesson in female anatomy when I noticed some of the posters that lined the inside of one of the trades' work trailers. I also learned what it meant to "tell it like it is" and how to avoid the cardinal sin of "beating around the bush".
It was a harsher world than the one that was familiar to me at home and at school. Operating in the tradition of cynicism, the older workers were constantly telling me what to do and pointing out my mistakes. Conversations usually began with the words “Why didn’t you” and “You should’ve”. Worst of all, I was just supposed to be quiet and take it. The only way to know you were doing a good job is if you weren’t being ridiculed.
But as I grew to be a little more callous, I started to notice the nuances of the culture at hand. I became more aware of the social cues when someone was showing me signs of respect. It became more obvious to me when a co-worker was circumnavigating the complement they wanted to send my way, for the simple fear that I would become too arrogant. The abrasive character of my co-workers faded, as signs of their intelligence and compassion were now more palpable. I came to the realization that these are not necessarily harsh people. Rather, they were entrenched in a culture that was once indiscernible to me; one whose charm is not always at first apparent.
