One day, I was late picking up my daughter from ballet class. When I arrived, the ballet teacher is standing outside with my daughter and I start explaining why I was late — I left the house a little later than usual, I had to pick up dinner, there was a line for pick up, etc. The ballet teacher says, “I understand – there was traffic.”
I opened my mouth to correct her: “I didn’t say that.” – I thought.
But I ultimately chose not to say anything, as I don’t think that was the point. I filed that moment away.
Another time, a new acquaintance and I were getting to know each other and she mentioned a book that she loves. I asked her all about it, and told her I may pick it up myself. A week later, she texts me and tells me that she picked up the book for me. I ask her how much it was so I can Venmo her. She doesn’t respond.
The next time I’m at her house, she gives me the book– I ask again. She ignores the question and moves the topic on. To this day, I don’t know if it was bad form to ask or if she forgot. It was awkward either way, and I filed it away.
At one point in my career, I was given the opportunity to move from a subsidiary to the parent company to lead marketing ops for the whole organization as recognition for my work. I expected celebration: the “Ashley this is a big deal.” It ended up being a simple conversation and a pay raise. In retrospect, this was the first time that I realized that the quiet is the recognition.
All of these weren’t lessons anyone announced. There was no syllabus. But something had shifted: I was recognizing a new vocabulary. In this new vocabulary, corrections and celebrations were quiet. I had to learn to hear them.
No one hands you the dictionary. Over-explaining, offering to pay for a gift, or waiting for a congratulations that never comes. You’re not wrong; you’re just operating from a different version of the language.
Eventually, you stop needing someone else to translate and start trusting what you see.
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