Funny (or maybe not so funny) how the most casual remark by someone can dramatically affect another someone’s life.
Bill and Louis worked in the creative department of a New York advertising agency. Outspoken, blunt, and self-assured to a fault, Louis possessed a certain charisma, and most of his peers sought his approval. Which was what Bill was after when he showed Louis the ad he was currently working on. To Bill’s chagrin, Louis didn’t smile, nod or react positively in any way, but simply stared at the ad, furrowing his brow.
“What’s wrong?” Bill asked. “Don’t you get it?”
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“Get it?” Louis answered sarcastically. “Yeah, I get it. You’re saying that the coffee can is hard to open.”
“No, I’m not. I’m saying that the coffee’s fresh. Why would I say it’s hard to open?”
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“How should I know? But that’s what the ad says.”
Bill simply shook his head and walked away, heading back to his office.
“Think about it!” Louis called after him. “You’ll see what I mean. It’s as plain as the nose on your face.”
Fast-forward three months. Bill returns to work after a one-month leave of absence. At 9:05 AM, like a hurricane, Louis whooshes into his office. “Where were you?”
With unusual calm, given Louis’s entrance, Bill looks up from his drawing board. “I had to take a medical leave.”
“A medical leave! What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine.”
“What do you mean, you’re fine? Why did you have to take a medical leave?”
Bill smiles. “Look at me. Notice anything different?”
Louis stares at Bill. “What are you talking about?”
Bill continues smiling. “Just look at me.”
“I am looking at you. I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Look at my nose.”
Louis’s eyes shift to Bill’s nose, studying it for a second or two, then: “Oh my God! What did you do?”
“I had my nose fixed.”
“What do you mean you had your nose fixed? What was wrong with it?”
“What was wrong with it?! It was too big ... and hooked. You said so yourself.”
Louis stares at Bill for a moment. “I said so? What are you, crazy? I never said anything about your nose.”
“Yes, you did. You said something was ‘as plain as the nose on my face.’ I was always self-conscious about my nose, but when you said that, I decided to get it fixed.”
Louis shakes his head. “You idiot. I didn’t mean anything about your nose. When I said ‘as plain as the nose on your face,’ I meant it was obvious. You had a great northern Italian nose. Like Vittorio Gassman.”
Bill’s smile has been steadily fading. “Well, I never liked it.”
“You like this one better?”
“Yeah, I do.” Bill hesitates. “Don’t you?”
Louis, often honest to a fault – or, as some thought, to the point of hurtfulness – responds, “No. Frankly, I don’t.”
I don’t know whether or not Bill ever regretted having his nose altered. Nor do I know if he would have had the procedure had Louis not said what he said. But the fact is, Louis made the comment and Bill had his nose done, and ever since I always try to choose my words with sensitivity. And I’m always annoyed by the insensitivity of those who don’t.
