avatarMax Mask, BSc, MBA.

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d over the phone like I was?</p><p id="da3a" type="7">How about this: Try to picture Ivanka, the object of her creepy father’s even creepier lust, punching a time clock! That will happen around the same time I start flying jets.</p><p id="709d">Maybe I’m being overly sensitive. I mean, if I could make my own sea salt while basking under the Mediterranean sun, wouldn’t I bleat about it later? Shit, no. I would not.</p><p id="1c29">So you know, the column’s focus was on scent and how it evokes particular memories. Here is the passage that set me off:</p><p id="d741"><i>When I was in Spain this summer, we sun-dried our own sea salt in Majorca, then went to a little shop near where we ate dinner to buy flor de sal harvested from the same Ses Salines salt flats. When I popped open the can — later back at home, my kids shouted, “it smells like Majorca!”</i></p><p id="c3f4">“Gee, kids! How cool is that? Know what? Get outta here”</p><p id="d35c">For those of us who don’t vacation in Majora, <i>flor de sal</i> means Salt Flower. Now, is it me, or is this type of self-important strutting gag-worthy?</p><p id="0c73">I’m not so offended by the message as much as I am by the way it was conveyed. As if the messenger had no clue of the disparity around her and the reality that people are struggling to make ends meet, for God’s sake. Struggling to feed themselves and their families. Working for minimum wage.</p><p id="051d">I get that this magazine is about beauty, not our country’s economy but all I can say is, the salaries must be pretty damned good.</p><p id="22b4">We, as writers, understand that words are powerful and the <i>way</i> in which we say things is as important, or maybe more so, as <i>what</i> we’re putting out into the world. I’ve learned this particular lesson the hard way. More than once.</p><p id="d5bd">Admittedly, I’m particularly sensitive in that I haven’t received an actual paycheck in almost two years. And I’m better than that. Much better, yet I can’t seem to catch a break. So, where someone else might read the editorial and think of it as “aspirational,” I think, “WTF?” Just as I do when I see TV commercials touting luxury automobiles as holiday gifts. What world are we living in?</p><p id="8d58">This is what doesn’t compute: While the editor raves about her kids raving about Majorca, there are other, less privileged children starving in this country. Their parents would love to afford a bus ticket, let alone a first-class airline ticket to Spain.</p><p id="f2ee">A little empathy for others, folks. That’s all I’m asking.</p><p id="184a">According to <i>nokidhungry.org</i>, in the United States, one in seven children lives with hungry. The bigger picture: According to the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA), more than eleven hundred children in our country live in “food insecure homes,” which means the family members don’t get enough to eat in order to live in a manner that’s deemed “healthy.”</p><p id="7845">Maybe the editor should set her cannister of DIY sea salt aside and chew on these stats:</p><p id="1300"><b>Over 4.5 million U.S. kids live in food deserts and lack access to grocery stores with fresh fruits and vegetables.</b></p><p id="742e"><b>On average, children in rural areas are more likely to experience food insecurity and lack access to quality health services.</b></p><p id="7f6a"><b>Close to 1 in 3 American children are overweight or obese, and obesity in children has more than tripled over the past 35 years, putting children at higher risk for serious, even life-threatening health problems.</b></p><p id="a02e"><b>In communities where Save the Children works, an average of 59 percent of children do not have access to fresh, healthy foods; in some areas, it’s as much as 98 percent.</b></p><p id="bc2d">Here’s more self-satisfied bunk from the editorial:</p><p id="c1b6"><i>In (country), last summer, my daughter and I treated ourselves one afternoon to tea at the (uber-luxe) hotel. Now, the scent of not only jasmine tea but also jasmine fragrances brings me half a world away to that fancy dining room, nibbling on tiny sandwiches

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and cakes.</i></p><p id="0408">Again, maybe I’m being unfair and bristly. But the manner in which this was written is offensive, in my humble opinion. Plus, the older I get, the less idiocy I can tolerate.</p><p id="712b">Maybe if she’d included some type of giveaway to the first fifty readers who wrote back via email, describing their favorite scents and what they evoked for them. Jasmine fragrance oil could be the giveaway. I don’t know.</p><p id="7d81">Perhaps this editor should stick to writing about lip conditioners and designer perfumes and the wonders of glycolic acid. Meanwhile, if the craving for a “tiny cake” should come upon her, she could always shove a Twinkie up her bum.</p><p id="444c">I’d like to thank <a href="undefined">Helen Cassidy Page</a> for her input here. She gave me the virtual slap upside the head that I needed. But, sweetly.</p><p id="6d7e"><i>Sherry McGuinn is a slightly-twisted, longtime Chicago-area writer and award-winning screenwriter. Her work has appeared in The Chicago Tribune, Chicago Sun-Times and numerous other publications. Sherry’s manager is currently pitching her newest screenplay, a drama with dark, comedic overtones and inspired by a true story.</i></p><p id="2284">As always, I appreciate your reading. If you’re up for more:</p><div id="974d" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/haiku-how-to-51d0685c1ad6"> <div> <div> <h2>Haiku How-To</h2> <div><h3>A primer for the sexually inquisitive.</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*yQwyx3SGkE3-oZlWW1dC9g.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="654f" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/did-i-fail-my-mother-3323d4907780"> <div> <div> <h2>Did I Fail My Mother?</h2> <div><h3>All the things I should have said, and didn’t.</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*IBboE8lKu9O0Q4Ga0aEGhQ.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="9067" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/the-hot-women-of-medium-c66515ba6bbe"> <div> <div> <h2>The Hot Women of Medium</h2> <div><h3>Smart, funny, gutsy and SMOKIN’!</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*sUDy3LYDjjZKQqXsMfyptQ.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="1a63" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/ive-never-received-1k-claps-b1dd0d9c56b9"> <div> <div> <h2>I’ve Never Received 1K Claps</h2> <div><h3>Wounded…and wondering.</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*zAfXUminR_ELCNKW8Ppsgw.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="11fc" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/its-official-i-m-an-a-hole-347624d73cd7"> <div> <div> <h2>It’s Official: I’m an A-Hole</h2> <div><h3>“Medium Madness” has me by the throat.</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*r4v7h4lCPyj7liblwp-GNQ.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

How To Avoid Venomous Verbal Attacks…

The metaphor of the spitting cobra

Photo by David Clode on Unsplash

“No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” — Eleanor Roosevelt

Pretend you have just encountered a spitting cobra. The venom of these snakes can produce tissue damage and pain if you should get the toxic venom on your skin. If you get the venom in your eyes you will likely go blind.

Here is my question…

If you did get venom on your skin would you lick it off to protect yourself?

Or, if given an opportunity, would you take the venom into your lungs by inhaling it?

The answer has to be a resounding NO!

Seems like that is such a stupid set of questions. But don’t we do the same thing when someone casually tosses a negative comment our way? This may be particularly true if that person is someone in an authority position such as a boss or manager.

The metaphor of the spitting cobra really has hit home to me. The quote by Eleanore Roosevelt, “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent”, is quite famous and I have heard it often, but never really thought about it deeply before now.

In the case of a spitting cobra, if the venom touches our skin, it need only be washed off to protect us from harm. If the venom is spat at us in the form of a verbal attack, all we have to do is wash it off, that is not to consent to the validity of the comment, and we will receive little or no damage from the attack.

Taking the criticism into our psyche, or worse, giving it validity, is where the problem lies. If we give the venom, or the harsh words, a landing place or acceptance, that is when the damage will occur. If we inhale the criticism, then we can be emotionally bruised.

We are required, however, to make use of our innate power to choose. And this is the hard path. It is easy to just let the venom get into our system and take no action. We need to get the poison off — or get it out. We need to use the power of our choice to not allow the attack to harm us. We need to choose a different path. We need to take action, and that action is not in a physical sense, but to make a mental choice. For example, we may say allowed or silently something like…

This attack was unjustified and unwarranted. It is a lie. I do not accept it.

Now, we do not necessarily have to have that response memorized, but something like unto that thought must be preprogrammed into our brain somewhere.

It would be as if you really were bitten by a venomous snake. Do we have a plan in place should that happen? When I was a kid I carried a snake bite kit with me when I went hiking. The kit had the necessary tools and supplies within should I be bitten. Interestingly, it was no bigger than a BIC lighter. It was so small and easy to carry that often I forgot I even had it with me. Thank goodness I never had to use the kit, but it was ready. And I was ready.

Maybe our emergency mental snake venom kit need only be a simple statement repeated in our minds (and sorry to repeat but…), “This attack was unjustified and unwarranted. It is a lie. I do not accept it.

Now, I have to say that I have not always been ready for harsh comments and verbal attacks in the past. Interestingly, I have been getting more than my fair share of these assaults over the past few months.

With this “spitting cobra” metaphor in mind, and perhaps with the idea of having a snake bite kit in my back pocket, I think I am better prepared now.

I will use the idea of the snake venom combined with Roosevelt’s quote involving — CONSENT.

Yes, if we allow it to happen, if we consent to let the venom course through our minds or in our veins, then, really, it is our fault. You can not really blame a snake for spitting its venom at you. That is what snakes do. But if we do not wash the venom out, or if we inhale the negative spirit of a harsh comment, the fault lies with us.

Here is a quote from one of my favorite authors, Jim Rohn. It is a little harsh and this quote also works well when we talk about spitting cobras. Nature can be a source of real cruelty — but it is also a source of wisdom and knowledge. Give some thought to this idea…

“Perhaps you’ve heard the story of the little bird. He had his wing over his eye and he was crying. The owl said to the bird, ‘You are crying.’ ‘Yes,’ said the little bird, and he pulled his wing away from his eye. ‘Oh, I see,’ said the owl. ‘You’re crying because the big bird pecked out your eye.’ And the little bird said, ‘No, I’m not crying because the big bird pecked out my eye. I’m crying because I let him.’”

— Jim Rohn

Conclusion

Don’t let the “big birds” in our lives peck out our eyes.

Don’t let the spitting cobra venom into our psyche.

Let us do a Roosevelt suggests, let us NOT consent to the assault.

“No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” — Eleanor Roosevelt

All the best… Max

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