Have you ever said something completely out of turn, and felt so horribly embarrassed that you wished that the ground would open and swallow you up? I know that I have, and more than once! There have been numerous occasions when I have felt that I could die of shame, times when I have longed for something cataclysmic to happen to wipe out the whole dreadful situation, though, of course, it never has.
Fortunately, such intense reactions are now a thing of the past. Somewhere along the line, I have learnt to cope with my foot-and-mouth disease, regrettably not so much by curing myself of it, as by acquiring the ability to take such incidents more in my stride. Perhaps, with the passing of years, I am less self-conscious and uncertain of myself, or perhaps I have learnt to tackle such situations with a measure of calm and dignity. Age, undoubtedly, has something to do with this process. In fact, one of the few comforting aspects of leaving youth behind is that nothing mortifies one to the point of wishing to be instantly annihilated!
These were the thoughts that passed through my mind the other day when, at a large party, I witnessed the acute embarrassment of a young girl who had just dropped a massive brick. Savita and her husband had invited a mixed crowd, amongst whom was a girl, not more than 20 years old and apparently a newcomer. Clearly someone with strong views, she was holding forth on the subject of only-children. “They are invariably spoilt brats, so self-centred that they can only think of themselves,” she proclaimed to the half a dozen people around, one of whom was our hostess. One or two people, realising what was happening, attempted to deflect her, but by now she was in full sail and reluctant to take any hint. “I know what I am talking about,” she insisted with the dogmatism of youth. As she ended her tirade, Savita was finally able to get a word in. “I’m not sure I agree,” she said mildly and with good humour. “I am an only-child and so is my daughter, and I don’t think we are too bad!”
This was the girl’s cue to apologise or light-heartedly laugh her gaffe off. Instead, in a manner which reminded me of my youth, she went into a paroxysm of embarrassment and embarked on a lengthy and convoluted explanation. Squirming with mortification, she then made matters worse by telling various other guests of the ghastly faux pas she had made.
We all have views which we express strongly or otherwise, and in the process we often drop a brick. The secret, since neither hurt nor unpleasantness is intended, is to extend a simple apology and thus dispel the need for embarrassment. But for the young, this is easier said than done.
