ACCOUNTANT BY DAY

Today I met my coworker friend and another accountant friend of ours for lunch at Fred P. Ott’s and one of the topics of conversation that we covered was my predilection for constant swearing. Not the “on the Bible” kind. The fuck-shit-piss kind. It came up because when I wrote my accountant friend to thank her for referring me to her hair stylist the other day, I mentioned specifically that I knew I would get along with her because she used the word “shit” casually in front of me.

I didn’t tell them about this, but on my way home from work yesterday, I was alone on the bus with my favorite bus driver and he told me a story that I felt was a bit outrageous, so I went out on a limb and told him he was full of shit. He laughed a lot and we had a brief conversation about how our relationship had now moved to some different level because we had broken the profanity barrier.

When I can truly be at ease with someone, I am more or less a teeth rattlingly profane person in face to face casual conversation. If I owned a sailboat, in other words, it would be named The Seaward.

At work I have a reliable on/off button, since as far as profanity goes, people fall into one of two categories: those who disapprove of or don’t use it, and those who relish it as an art and recognize its utility as a form of verbal punctuation. Most women fall into the former category, and since I work with nearly all women it isn’t really safe to talk as I normally would. I also try not to talk like a gutter whore in front of family.

So at lunch my coworker friend brought up that I frequently rely on a person’s use of profanity as an indicator of how much I might like them. I explained that it’s more a sign of how much I can relax around them. If the person isn’t going to squirm over a couple of fucks and shits, it’s a good barometer with respect to showing that they have low prissy and fussy scores. I have a lot of non-profane people (my boss, who is super nice and I love her, is one) that I really like. Just knowing that a person doesn’t care for swearing doesn’t detract from my opinion of them or make me consider them less fun. It’s the way they are and I’m fine with it. It just means that I try to hold back a little to avoid making them feel bad. In some respects, it can be considered admirable when people are principled enough to avoid language that makes them sound crass.

The level of swear used by the other person is also a sort of indicator as to how far I can go with them. I consider “damn” very mild, “shit” a mild victory, “fuck” a sign that the person has few boundaries and can probably be trusted not to freak out at even the worst of my stories. Use of the word “cunt” in front of me nearly always convinces me that someone is very gutsy, since most women explode into a fine red mist when they hear that word. I don’t necessarily think this is a word that needs to be hauled out very often. It is kind of the habanero chili pepper of swear words. Use it too much and it’s frankly too forceful. It should be used sparingly and by a linguistic connoisseur.

My coworker friend told me that she had described my love for profanity to a man she is working with now. Apparently he told her that if he ever meets me, he will be looking forward to greeting me with, “Hi, how the fuck are you?!” I was thrilled to hear this and I hope I do get to meet him, since I appreciate that attitude.

Anyway, part of why I bring this up is that I think it’s funny how certain aspects of my personality almost seem like they are in conflict. Despite loving to say naughty words, I am a stickler for good manners. Everyone who hung out with me the summer that I read the 500 page etiquette book cover to cover knows this. I also am one of those people who secretly wishes that casual dress would be banned from the workplace and that it were fashionable for women to wear hats and fancy little suits all the time.

On my way home from lunch I stopped at a yard sale being run by a lady in Mission who told me she used to sell on eBay and wants to stop and is now liquidating all her stock. I bought an old “Jonquil Original” brand women’s hat from her for a dollar. Now I have the hat to go with my fancy black 50 cent gloves from last weekend. Unfortunately, I’d feel a little silly wearing these to work. It’s a shame. They are cute and snappy. I mean, well, fuck.