Come on, gimme a hug!

To say I’m a touchy-feely person would be an under-exaggeration. Hugs are the best when given freely. But, and here’s the but, there are situations in which I reconsider whether a hug is apropos.


This debate comes up most often during the holiday season. While I have no trouble giving friends and family, and even newly made friends a hug (I search them out, really), I tend to draw the line at hugging customers. There’s a boundary there and I’m not comfortable crossing it. I even have to take a look at the whole appropriateness when it’s a work colleague, especially one who I may not work with often.

Just last week, we were talking about the need for professionalism at all levels, even when it comes to sending an email to a regular supplier or client. “You never start an email message with “Hi Karen,” said the owner during an account coordinator staff meeting. It implies friendship and that can blur the line between us and the customer. They may seem like friends now, but when something goes wrong, no matter where the fault lies, that friendship is out the window. “You can be friendly but don’t assume that this familiarity will translate well when they are not satisfied with the product or service,” she noted.

The same goes for hugs. Just this afternoon, after loading up a customer’s car with logoed soft shell jackets, hockey bags and garment bags, an order from hell that had been on the go since the River Styx was a forethought, she stepped in. At first, I was unsure and did a half-step back. What was she doing? She was taking up more of my personal space. Do I step back to let her pass? She was, after all, about to get in her car and go off to a hockey tournament in Fergus. But then she went in for the kill, throwing her familiarity, her friendship around my shoulders and bringing me into her fold.

It was a Christmas hug and I had enough sense to hug her back, though not as fully as I would Anasatan or Mags. Those are reserved for the blessed. But, I still felt unease, uneasy with this familiarity-turned friendship. A question arose: Would I be her friend if she wasn’t a customer? Even the answer was iffy. She would be a friendly acquaintance, one to shoot the breeze with if we happened to be in the same place at the same time. Would I invite her over to the now infamous Festivus Party (The Anti-Christmas Party)? Probably not.

It’s like hugging everyone in the line at the grocery store on Christmas Eve. While you may revel in the Christmas spirit, you may not be so inclined to reach across the conveyer belt and embrace the check-out cashier.

However, if the cashier were a hottie, I may have to throw caution to the wind. It is Christmas, after all.

Introducing Scribe-ilicious

Okay, so I did it. I took the plunge and created my first blog. I'm a newbie, so go easy on me.

An introduction is in order. Hi, my name is Linda, but you can call me Scribe. I've been a writer since I could hold a crayon, creating stories for my stuffed animals, real animals and anyone else who would listen - and that includes really bad poetry in my teens. I mean really, really bad. I was full of angst and woe. "O lowly moon, do not weep for me," my friends would joke. I was Emo before that term was coined. The teenagers today have nothing on me. My mother, who shall be referred to as "Mags," 'cause she so does not suit that name, calls it my black phase and I think she believes I'm still in it. It's quite the opposite in fact; I'm full of laughter and light and a bit of twisted psychosis, which you will probably see displayed here. Don't worry though - I'm harmless. Honest. Cross my heart and hope to spit.

So, why am I blogging? Besides the fact that I want to keep up with the young'uns (I don't really. Honest.), I was searching for another venue for my writing and freelance writing for web sites may pay the bills but it doesn't pull at the heartstrings or stir my creative juices. I look at Scribing Life as an escape where my mind can race, I can spew out ideas and muse about my life as it stands now.

My first blog was going to be a retrospective of sorts - looking at my life now and remembering where I've been and then maybe I can find out where the hell I'm going. I remember when I was five wondering what it would feel like to be 14. At 14, I tried to look ahead and think of my life at 18, then at 21 and moving on to 30. Let me tell you this: this is not where I thought I would be - living in a townhouse in the same city where I was born, divorced (best thing I ever did by the way; I firmly believe that people should be married at least once) and embarking on a new relationship with my boyfriend, my 8-mth old boxer Kao and Bella, my 15-year-old soccer ball with a head cat. I thought I would be well-established in a writing career, married with three kids and living in the city. Instead, I'm stuck in the suburbs, my compass reliant on the same coordinates I was born into and wondering again when my real career and real life will begin.

But, this is my real life. My Scribing Life, and I'm here to make the most of it. Come join me as I navigate the next chapter with humour (yes, I am a Canadian and the "U" is intentional), a little bit of self-deprecation and just a wee bit of insight into where life will take us.

Let's get started!