Last night outside a club the bouncer who was managing the line in the frigid cold referred to my partner as “Grampa”—distinguishing him from the crowd of 20- and 30-somethings shivering alongside us. (We were with a bunch of friends celebrating a 40th birthday.)
Bob went over to him and said, “I understand that they’re not the same thing, but calling me ‘Grampa’ feels a bit list what it would be like for someone to call you the N-word.”
The bouncer thought it over, nodded, said, “I got it.”
“I am a grandfather, by the way,” Bob added, “and proud of it.”
Wow, really excellent way to handle that. Especially compared to what I might have done.
One of the best things was that several of our friends who witnessed the exchange thought it was so cool that i made an issue of it.