A few weeks ago, a letter entitled “Who’s Not Listening” appeared from a person I had never met before we volunteered together at the Egyptian. She described our encounter as a discussion (it was not) in which I dismissed her questions and refused to listen.  She then used that incomplet e and inaccurate portrayal as a segue into the broader argument in her letter, one that I can only imagine she was already forming that night.  I could have let it slide, but this example touches a basic tenet of respect for one another that needs to be addressed … again. First, we weren’t just chatting before the show. There were four of us already in place behind the bar, the theater was open, and customers were arriving. One of the cashiers, a longtime volunteer, leaned back and asked if he could ask me some questions about Bonanza.  I said “No, but I’ll give you one,” trying to be polite without inviting a full discussion. We were working, after all. I answered his funding question, the TRT tax. He thanked me, and it took less than a minute. Overhearing that exchange, she initiated her “discussion” with me. Her first words were “it’s the people’s money” regardless of where it came from. Given her tone, I sensed where this was headed. I explained that I was there as a volunteer, and that I was off council duty. Not accepting that, her next words informed me that I was supposed to be available 24/7 — her actual words. Taken aback, I tried to add some levity, saying that during the council salary discussion, I heard clearly from the public that we were not expected to be paid to work around the clock. I repeated I was not on the clock at the time. Still not listening, she continued pressing the issue with more basic questions.  Frustrated at her refusal to accept that I was unavailable, I told her that if she wanted to understand the project more, she should spend some time researching it rather than expecting me to explain the whole thing while I was simultaneously trying to serve Egyptian customers. I again told her that I was volunteering. I was off the clock. Her claim that she respects the personal lives of elected officials is particularly ironic, as she follows that with the suggestion that she would have backed off if I had phrased my “no” differently. My bad for not knowing there was a right and wrong way to say it.  In any case, the message could not have been clearer: this was not the time nor place for this discussion. She did not respect that boundary then, and her letter suggests that she still doesn’t. As her title asks: Who’s not listening? Think about what happened here: I said “no” to the conversation before it began. I explained why. I said “no” again. I explained again. And then I said “no” a third and fourth time, while trying to continue doing the job I had volunteered to do. This touches the far broader subject of respect. When does “no” mean “no”? How many “no’s” does it take to really mean “no”?  Is there a special way to say “no” to make it more effective? Today, you would think the answers were obvious to us all. Apparently they are not. As it relates to me, I try to respect that I’m in the public eye and make myself available for spur-of-the-moment conversations. I have them all the time. But when I do say “no,” it means “no.” And I shouldn’t have to say it more than once, or read about it in the local paper. Ed Parigian Park City Councilor The post Proper time, place appeared first on Park Record. ...read more read less