Dear Ms. Mabel,

There’s a young lady who just started working in my office, and from day one I knew she was going to be a problem. She’s nice enough, I guess, but her sense of entitlement is off putting. I think this is her first office job because she clearly has no idea how to act. She’ll drink the last of the coffee without making more. She expects others to unjam the copier for her and never offers to cover the phones during lunch. She also sometimes dresses inappropriately, showing entirely too much skin. The men in the office have taken notice and flirt with her often. I am not her direct supervisor, but I’m the oldest member of our department and have a bit of a leadership role, so I’d like to address it with her. I have spoken with the other ladies in the office, so I know I’m not alone in my annoyance. How do we older people deal with this entitled generation of young women with all their goods on display?

Thanks for your help,

Anonymous

Hendersonville, TN

Truth be told, I'd rather sleep on a pillow made of ragweed with a blanket of cat hair than to answer this question. You ain’t gonna like the answer, sister. 

Now, before we dive into whether this girl is a lazy hussie or not, let ol’ Mabel tell you another story. 

When I was a girl, two of my favorite people were my Momma’s brother, John, and his wife, Willow. While the rest of Momma’s siblings scarcely traveled more than 30 miles from home, John set out to explore the world when he was only 16 years old. He spent 10 adventurous years traveling the globe and came back home when I was 5 years old.  

His tales of leaping from town to town, country to country fascinated my curious young mind. It makes me chuckle a little; looking back, I don’t even know if all those stories were true ones. My favorite story, and one I know to be true, is the one about how he met his wife. 

By sheer happenstance, as was always the case with Uncle John, he found himself in a small coastal village, remotely isolated from any foreign influences. As the sun was rising, he set out to explore his new horizon. 

I can still hear the excitement in his voice, as he was describing it all. He was the best story teller I’ve ever known.

“Oh darlin’, I wish you could have seen it. The sun was just cresting over the rooftops on main street. It was so bright I could barely make out the outlines of people across the way. The air was full of bizarre smells, pleasant but so foreign to me. 

I followed a breeze down the thoroughfare until I was stopped short, frozen in my stead. Off in the distance stood a shadowy figure with limbs like the branches of a willow tree and hair flowing like the tender whips of its leaves. A slight hilt of her laughter reached my ears and, though I had not yet seen her face, I was instantly in love. As I walked toward my destiny, shade finally found my eyes and I was able to take in the full account of her beauty. Her gaze met mine, but only briefly, as she turned into one of the shops and closed the door. Without hesitation, I followed her. 

To my surprise — and dismay — I was greeted by a very large man standing near the entrance. He spoke a language I didn’t quite understand, but his demeanor was pleasant and words were welcoming. I spotted my love behind the counter and moved toward her earnestly. 

“Excuse me, miss,” I called out to her, knowing she wouldn’t understand the words. She turned and stared at me with a look of bewilderment. I assumed it was because my language was different but continued to speak to her, hoping for a miracle. 

All of a sudden, the very large man stepped between us. His demeanor is no longer pleasant and despite our communication barrier, he made it very clear she was his daughter and he didn’t like me talking to her.

I left, knowing I would return soon. Nothing would keep me from my love who, from that day forward, I called Willow. Every day for a month, I came back to the shop and, every day, I was rejected. At first, her father grew more angry each time, and then he seemed to soften. 

I was beginning to learn the language.

Toward the end of the month, he smiled at me while still ushering me out the door. He repeated a word over and over that day, one I wasn’t familiar with. I asked around and discovered the word loosely translated to “permission.” Further inquiries led me to learn that in accordance with village customs, a man must seek permission from a girl's parents before speaking to her at all. 

As fast as I could, I learned the proper way to ask her parents for permission, which they granted as soon as I asked. The only thing that had kept me from my love was my ignorance! During my first conversation, Willow explained that in the beginning, she and her parents had thought I was very rude and disrespectful based on my behavior the first day. As time wore on, though, they realized I just didn’t understand their culture so she begged her father to help me learn proper behavior. 

That’s all it took — a little nudge from her Father to take me from incapacitated to in a courtship. 

Uncle John and Aunt Willow married within a couple of months and he brought her back home to live. When I got a little older, I considered how differently their story would have turned out if it weren’t for Willow’s father taking the time to educate Uncle John on the ways of their world instead of just labeling him ill-mannered and his actions inappropriate. 

Ok, by now you already know where I’m going with this. Go ahead and buckle up, buttercup.

The way I see it, this new girl is either an entitled, lazy little floosie OR she’s a young girl who’s ignorant to appropriate workplace behavior and unaccustomed to your office culture. I don’t know which one it is and neither do you, as you’ve never given her a chance.

I don’t know when it happened, but at some point, it seems older women stopped educating younger ones on a regular basis. For thousands of years, that’s been the backbone of our society, passing knowledge and understanding between the generations. I learned so much from all the different women in my life, from my Momma, to Aunt Willow, to the lady at the grocery store. 

They all shaped me. Why did we stop doing that and start the constant grumbling? 

You can’t blame the girl for accepting the attention from the men if all you women have shunned her. Maybe she’s afraid she’ll make bad coffee or tear up the printer. Has anyone told her she’s expected to offer to cover the phones during lunch occasionally? I doubt it. You sound like y’all just don’t want to like her. I think it’s highly likely this young lady isn’t entitled at all but is just ignorant.  

You have two choices: 

Get to know this young lady and learn her story. Teach her the ways and customs of your office. Respect her as a person and SHOW HER the value of intergenerational sisterhood. 

Or, continue to be irritated by her and gossip with your pals every chance you get. Teach her nothing and let your annoyance fester to the point the poor girl couldn't even eat a bowl of cereal right. 

It may seem like an inconsequential action, but you are setting an example for how women are treated in your office. The rest of the women on your team will be influenced by your actions and the young lady is learning, too. I expect you to make the right decision whether you want to or not. Or else, I’m going to hunt you down and put a whoopie cushion in your desk chair. Try me, sister, I’m bored! 

As for the rest of you reading this, take some time to really consider what you are teaching the younger women in your life. Before you get annoyed at “kids these days,” ask yourself what YOU are doing to hold up your responsibility to guide them. 

They used to say “it takes a village,” but it looks to me the village has disappeared and it ain’t the kids’ faults, either. It’s us. 

What are y’all gonna do about it today?

Thanks for sending in your questions, y'all. Keep 'em coming! You can submit them right here super easy. I'll be back next week.