Awkward Truths

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but I think your skirt is stuck in your underwear.”

The thoughts I had when a stranger offered that information in a busy store are too numerous to list without turning this essay into a two hour read. I trust your imagination suffices.

My hands flew to the area in question and, sure enough, a small piece of the hem of my flowing skirt was stuck in the waistband of my unmentionables creating a triangular window to cheeks that would have blushed scarlet if humanly possible. I was horrified. I instantly hated everyone I’d encountered in the preceding five minutes I traversed the parking lot and massive garden shop of my local Home Depot. I’d bent over at least twice to survey flowers! How many lives were needlessly ruined that day?

When the stranger approached me to deliver this news, I assumed different intentions. Earlier, I noticed him watching me in the parking lot. He was getting into his truck to leave as I was entering the building. I could feel his eyes looking me over and it creeped me out.

He should have been gone by now and, even if he’d returned to collect something he’d forgotten to buy, there was no reason for him to be walking toward me. It was clear he was, though. The intention in his steps as he approached was evident. This creepy person was going to talk to me and I was going to have to politely redirect his interests to potting soil. Boy was I wrong.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but I think your skirt is stuck in your underwear.”

I know I’ve shared that part already, but my brain has repeated the sentence with regularity for the past four years so I figured those reading this might as well experience the same thing.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but I think your skirt is stuck in your underwear.”

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but I think your skirt is stuck in your underwear.”

After I sorted things out, he quickly explained he noticed the problem when I exited my car and had hoped I’d sense the situation. As he drove past the garden center, he could see enough of the inside (and enough of me — he was polite not to say) to know I hadn’t “sensed the situation” and parked his truck so he could come find me. He repeated an apology for having to tell me and, having done his duty as my guardian angel, quickly left. I suspect we were both grateful for the interaction to end.

If you’re wondering what I did next, I raised my chin and continued shopping. I do recall having to lean on my cart a bit to support wobbly legs.

After I had time to recover from that moment, I could identify the contributing factors: me being unaware of a problem, others not wanting to deal with something awkward, one person being brave enough to extend the ultimate kindness of honesty without malice.

This experience, though humiliating, was important. It put me on the receiving end of a gesture I am often delivering — bringing up awkward truths or challenges — and gave me a chance to experience the barrage of thoughts and feelings that accompany the initial assault of the information.

I’m often the go-to person in my circles when it comes to getting things out in the open that are hard to talk about or potentially upsetting. Friends and colleagues through the years (perhaps this is a Midwest thing) have been honest about hesitations to start tricky conversations. There are usually concerns about hurting feelings, appearing to be negative or (and this is the big one) starting something that ends in an argument. Humans typically prefer to be liked, viewed as kind and in harmony with others. As humans, that’s true for me and likely for the gentleman who dared to intervene in my situation.

What I learned from that awful moment was an affirmation of what I’d long hoped. When people approach difficult situations with care versus malice and honesty versus something less than the truth, those on the receiving end — if they have the capacity to recognize it — detect the courage and kindness the moment required. It may not be immediate. Initial reactions that land on the spectrum of awful take time to get through. Once the haze of humiliation, embarrassment or anger clears — that are often more of a reaction to the recipient’s inner dialogue than what and how something was said to them — things have a way of working out.

I am forever grateful to the stranger who approached me in Home Depot and the effort he made to make me aware of an important truth. There was no way to share his observation that could have changed the reality of what he had to say. There was no way it wasn’t going to be awkward. The truth isn’t always pleasant, but it is usually kind in the long run.