Culture Shock
I had been obsessing for months about why she didn’t like me. I had carefully reviewed every interaction we had had in the few times we’d spent time together. Was it something I said? Was it something I did? Had I offended her without even knowing?
Yet the brief times we had spent together seemed to have gone well; we would laugh together, and often have similar views whenever we made small talk. Yet in between those times of working together, she didn’t return a couple of calls I had placed to her, or even respond to email.
Although it bothered me—more than I’d like to admit—I finally put my thoughts on the shelf and focused on other things—or people who did like me.
Then one Friday afternoon, out of the blue, the caller ID popped up with her name, and I weighed the consequences of answering the call, or letting it go to my bright (and probably too bubbly) voice mail greeting.
Well, of course I answered! My curiosity was killing me.
She greeted me as though we were the best of pals, and briefly shared the reason for her call. The conversation was pleasant, and again I wondered if I’d be left with the same thoughts that always came after we had a pleasant exchange or worked together.
But then, as she was ready to hang up, she made an extra effort to be warm and friendly. She even said, “Well, Love, I’ll talk to you soon. Have a good weekend!”
It was after we said goodbye, that it finally hit me. Through that little thing known as culture, she just had a different way of reaching out. I had been unknowingly expecting her to reach out in the same manner I’ve done, and when she didn’t do that, I immediately—and incorrectly—assumed that she didn’t like me. It became more logical as I considered her beautiful accent, the way I had witnessed her interact with others.
Maybe she does like me after all!
