It is hard to be a funny person in today’s world, where everyone takes themselves so seriously.
Like many who are not good students in school, I compensated by being funny in class. Being the class clown took attention away from my weak academics and gave the impression that I didn’t care about my schoolwork.
This trait of making jokes about everything has carried over into my adulthood and, for the most part, served me well.
I make jokes when I am having fun, nervous, want someone to like me, or are trying to make another person feel comfortable. I’ve often said I will sacrifice myself for a good joke.
Times are Changing
Recently, I was babbling nervously, telling jokes, and doing what I thought was making the Carti nurse feel comfortable as she gave me my Keytruda IV. She was a cute, 30-year-old black woman who I complemented on doing a good job because the last nurse had already unsuccessfully poked me two times, leaving huge bruises.
About thirty minutes into the session, with the drug surging through my veins, the head nurse of the department, a lovely lady, came over to visit. We chatted for a good 10 minutes – again, with me being (what I thought was) funny and charming. Just as I am finishing up and about to leave, she apologetically tells me one of my jokes offended the young black nurse. This offended me! Without directly saying it, she implied I was a racist! Me! A person who has preserved a historically significant building in downtown Little Rock, stopped selling the Confederate Battle Flag in solidarity, and over the last five decades has employed numerous African Americans at my company.
In shock, I forgot to ask exactly what I said but did offer to apologize to the young nurse, which was declined. When I left the building, I was full of doubt. I doubted myself, my judgement, my touch with reality. Cancer treatments are bad enough and now this. In the car, I actually cried in self-pity.
Finding My Way Back
After being hurt, I moved on to anger and began thinking the nurse just hates hardworking rich white ladies, or maybe she hates her job and is piling up incidents in her file so she can quit with cause … I don’t know.
The next day, on my husband’s advice, I began to pray for her. This is the best tool for getting over anger towards someone. In my 50-year career with countless employees, two marriages, and four children, I have used this prayer tactic often. As the anger subsided, I began to take ownership of the part I played. As I prayed for her, I realized I have no idea what it is like to be a young black woman.
Lessons Learned are Hard
Growth comes in the hard places. This past week’s incident was hard for me and hard on my confidence. But, alas, I had to own up to my part and realize, if I want to stay relevant (and I do), I must change with the times. I am no longer the poor student but rather an accomplished mother, wife, daughter, grandmother, and successful businesswoman. And I no longer need approval because like a good sourdough, I’m proofed.
But, then again, let’s be real; I can’t just turn off being funny, and I don’t want to. I love to laugh and make people laugh. But I can pick my time and place to do it and forgive myself when I miss the mark. All comedians bomb on some days.
Keep laughing, my friends.
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