Privacy and Trust – Q- When do you share?

Privacy and Trust – Q- When do you share?

I’ve seen a few writings that bring up this topic, and it is def a personal preference IMO. Some people overshare and some keep secrets and play games to keep themselves protected. And most of us live in between.

Most of us have a degree of trust list that we refer to:

  • first is: does this person need to know this? Are they your spouse or SO? Are they the boss or a coworker? Are they a close friend or family member?
  • What do they intend to do with the info? Who can they tell and would they? Are they the type who gossip?
  • How bad could this getting out sabotage your life and your relationships? Could it get you fired, divorced, lose you custody of your kids?
  • Has this person shown you they can be trusted before?
  • How meaningful, intimate is this to you? How bad would it hurt if they blabbed?
  • How close are you to this person? And how bad would it hurt if they blabbed and you lost your trust in them? Would you be able to continue the relationship? What impact would that have on you and them?
  • Do you feel obliged to tell them and why? Is it a safety issue for them? Do they need to know to protect themselves?
  • Do you get to have something about yourself that you keep just for you? A dream, a fantasy, a goal… just some hold back that you want or need to keep in your heart, rather than share.
  • Is it an actual secret or is it a lie? Do you have to feed them false info, or just not share?
  • Have you had your trust broken before? And how bad were the ramifications to you?

Those are the questions I can think of, and I’m happy to hear more, if you have them.

Ma and Pa Kettle Store (a story)

Ma and Pa Kettle Store

It’s funny how you don’t really think about these stores, unless something goes wrong. They’re the neighbourhood variety store, a little artistic boutique, a grocers, a dry cleaners, maybe even a pharmacy. The common bond is that they are run by a family. Maybe passed down to their kids and grandkids.

Their kids start helping out when they’re fairly young, probably younger than legally allowed to work elsewhere. They start stacking goods, and cleaning the store. Long before they take counter shifts. And they may work the computer long before mom or dad get the hang of it. Sometimes they practice their maths by helping mom or dad with the books or the cash register.

And they and their parents fight about having home chores and store chores. And feeling like they have a job when they don’t get paid for it.

Dinner conversations were often about politics and the govt. And their effect on the neighbourhood. How the big stores were taking over. How the govt didn’t really consider their role in tourism, that these little guys make a divergent community that attracts, rather than having chain stores everywhere, so you have to pay attention when you wake up. Or you forget where you are!

That was the world that Mack grew up in. That is what he thought was normal. Like every other kid about their life. He was expected to learn the biz so one day he could run the store for him and his kids. It would be a legacy.

But Mack hated the store. He wasn’t that good at conversation, so barely said “hi” when a customer came in. Though both his mom and dad were chatty types. Esp with the regulars. He wasn’t that good at computers and math. So he often made his mom and dad have to do twice the work to correct his errors. He overheard them wondering if he was actually that bad? Or if he was being stubborn about not wanting to learn the stuff that was needed. But then they remembered his last report card from school. And wondered what they were going to do about this?

So they sent him to an uncle for the summer who ran a temp agency. And Mack was tried out in a lot of entrance level jobs. It seemed all he could do was factory grunt work or day labour on construction sites. Where he was clearly told what to do and how to do it. Over and over.

So they had Mack checked out. The doctors checked his intelligence, his moods, did a few scans and blood tests. And there was officially nothing wrong with Mack. He was an ordinary boy. And maybe that was part of the issue? His parents had higher hopes for their son. It’s why every parent does what they do, to make the world better for their kids. Isn’t it?

But Mack was one of the great unwashed, And his parents loved him. So they found a girl that Mack could marry, who would do the smart work and leave Mack to stock the shelves and clean the store.

And Mack was an obedient son. He married her. I mean, it’s not like she was ugly or had a boring or horrible personality.

And Emily’s parents were happy their daughter and grand children would have a better future. They just hoped their daughter’s genes would tell. But money is money and they were thrilled to be the inlaws. They were the type who never had enough money to buy that little store, after paying their bills.

So Mack and Emily liked each other thru life, supported each other at the store, and taught their kids what they each brought to the table.

No gangs asked for protection money. No robbers came in and stole their day’s take. I mean the odd kid thought that stuffing their pockets’d be cool. But Mack had a keen eye and soon sorted those young fools out.

So Mack and Emily had a quiet life.

They were born and died in middle class, and were grateful they had their piece of the pie. Not asking for a pot of gold, just enough to pay the bills. And not be taken over by the super mall that was going up at the edge of town.

They became the next gen of Ma and Pa Kettle.

Mr Itchy Feet (a story)

Mr Itchy Feet

Anywhere but here, anywho but me. That was Roger Dodger’s philosophy on life and living. His affairs were lucky to last beyond the weekend. He never signed a lease or a contract for work. And if you met him, don’t ask for a landline number, it’ll likely be disconnected by next week. Ask for his cell.

His friends were very much situational and his family were grateful to see him a bouple times a year, if he was in town.

When he worked, he worked like a man possessed. It was a good excuse not to get involved in social groups or hobby groups.

And he drank like a fish! Anything to not remember….

What did he want to erase?

He’d had a decent childhood and no major traumas, so why did he not connect?

Well there was no surprise diagnosis or anything. So what was the story?

Who did he hate? Himself or the great “other”? It was really hard to tell. He was gregarious, and affable when you met him. The life of the party. But maybe that was because he was half-cut most days?

Nobody knows why, least of all him. Maybe he just has itchy feet?

song influences

Neil Diamond – I am… I said
Please Come To Boston – Dave Loggins
Papa was a Rollin Stone! – the Temptations
Patsy Gallant – From New York To L.A.

Not That Kind of Drug Gang (a story/ish)

Not That Kind of Drug Gang

NB While this is technically fiction, it is based on an amalgamation of a few real stories I know of)

When you think of a drug gang, you usually think of them in an abandoned city building, not pristine medical offices. But Dr A and Dr Mrs A were the sort who gave out meds like candy. Because they owned the pharmacy attached to their clinic as well. So they could get generics and sell them as brand name drugs. Or they could give placebos instead of real active drugs.

Their fave patients to give Rxs to were single, poor moms. They had to be worried or sad about something, right? And any complainant would be passed on to CAS for non-compliance. They had a friend shrink who’d back them up of course. There was no real way to tell how many cases were of a child in real need. Because CAS are biased as well. And their fave target? Single poor moms. Especially if they’re from the Rez. Dr A and Dr Mrs A had no qualms. Though they probably should have, considering they weren’t white people. Interesting? Cruel? You decide.

Somehow though, the College of Physicians and Surgeons got wind. The complaint began with OHIP suggesting they were over-booking the number of patients they saw in a day. But that is kind of like a drug gang of the smarmy kiind being caught on tax evation and charged under the RICO act. It was arguable and barely skimmed the surface of what they were responsible for. How many homes had they wrecked, how many people/women and children had been adversely influenced by their acting improperly?

But eventually, Dr A was actually charged. And lost his license. Dr Mrs A was not. So he became her med student. And a pharmacy assistant. The clinic went on as usual. Dr Mrs A went on as usual. And homes went on being wrecked. As per usual.