Speak Up

Last week, I finally had the chance to issue my Swiss ID. It took me close to a year to complete all the paperwork and do the oral exam where the lovely police lady casually opened with “Are you associated with the red light district?”, followed by a series of questions about Swiss history, politics and typical instruments (which is the only category I partially failed in since I was not able to recall the “Handörgeli”…). Fun fact: I actually had to do the entire exam twice because apparently the police IT system in Switzerland is even more buggy than the Balinese visa application process, and since the lady forgot to save any of my answers, once we were ready to conclude, she realized everything she had typed was gone… So long story short: I really earned this Swiss ID.

When I arrived at the residents’ registration office, the lady asked me to take the picture for my ID. I was imagining something like the pronto photo boxes at the train station where you see your own image while taking the picture. Turns out, you can’t. So when she showed me her snapshot of me with a totally tense faceand frozen smile, one ear sticking out and my hair pressed against my temples from the hat I was wearing earlier, she asked: “Is this alright?” And guess what I replied..  “Yes, sure.” Instead of asking her to kindly take another picture, I preferred to be stuck with one I don’t like for the next 10 years. And don’t get me wrong: this is not so much about the picture. Most of us do look like RAF terrorists on their passports. This is about every single time I did not dare to speak up when I wasn’t happy with an outcome.

• Every single time a waitress asked me: “How was the food?” and I did not tell them it was cold, salty or whatever.
• Every time I got a present and pretended to like it.
• Every time someone hurt my feelings and I just said: “I’m fine.” when I really wasn’t.

Sure, I was raised to be extra-polite and never to step on anyone’s toes. But that not only leads to me ending up with poor experiences on a regular basis. It also deprives the other person of an opportunity to grow.

• A chef once told me that he gets really angry when people pretend to like his food because he’ll keep serving a dish that he could have improved.
• There are ways to appreciate the gesture of gift-giving and still let the other person know that you are not so much into pottery, escape rooms or coffee table books about Pakistan.
• And more often than not we actually can risk saying “This really hurt me.” without losing the connection to this person. Someone recently did that with me, and I really appreciate it.
• And as far as the lady at the Swiss ID counter is concerned: She is getting paid for taking biometrical pictures – with my taxes. It’s her freaking job.

So now, for the next 10 years everytime I pull out my Swiss ID I’ll remember to stand my ground and own my space while a Handörgeli is playing in the back of my head…

Did you ever get mad at yourself for not speaking up, too? Or do you feel like sharing your ID pictures with me to make me feel better? 😉

Lots of love,

Tanja

This text was first published in my though-letter Tanja’s Butterflies (January Edition 2023 – Part 2). If you are interested in receiving the next editions in your inbox including additional resources such as inspiring quotes, books and more, you can subscribe here.