Pride, Prejudice and a Portion of Chips

Pride, Prejudice and a Portion of Chips

Snobbery's an awful thing! People who think they're 'better' than you,
based on some metric of their own choosing. Perhaps someone with
inherited money and no other talent who looks on you as someone who is
dimmer, less well mannered - 'lower class'. Once again these people set
the rules - they invent the manners that they judge you by "Did you
hear that awful man? He couldn't pronounce 'Cholmondley' properly haw,
haw!"

It's the need for people to find security in cliques; it's a survival
thing, perfectly natural.

It's prejudice - that's a safe thing! Easy to deal with - categorise -
reject/accept!

But it works both ways - it's not just the posh who sneer at the rough,
the rich who sneer at the poor, the talented who sneer at the witless.
It happens just the same in other ways.

In the late sixties, I was working in the John Moore's centre in
Liverpool. Filling in the year between getting thrown out after my
first year at university, to getting back in again, I was working as a
post boy.

There were a few of us post boys, and a bevy of joking women. Parcels
arrived for the buyers, who occupied several floors of the building. We
opened them (like Christmas) and put them on a conveyor for the ladies
to book them in. Then we delivered them to the buyer's offices -
clothes, cameras, radios, almost everything.

Deliveries took place every few hours. I usually got round fairly
quick, and had to disappear to the bog and read a book. If I didn't,
the foreman would make me sweep the floor or something just to 'keep me
busy'.

On every floor, there were two receptionists - nice girls! Just what
you needed to brighten your day. If a bloke in a suit appeared, you
would hand them some item and scurry off, looking busy. You went back
later, retrieved it and delivered it.

The other guys were OK, we had one who constantly told jokes - a right
laugh all the time. We used to have a drink sometimes after work, and
we all got on fine. They didn't mind I was a 'student' (strictly of
course, I wasn't at the time), it hardly ever came up, except the odd
friendly joke.

Then we got a Scottish bloke to work with us - let's call him 'Ted'. He
was a youth player come down to Everton, and worked part-time in
between training etc.

He absolutely hated me from the start, as soon as I opened my mouth, or
even before. He used to crowd in front of me, challenge me, sneer at
me. He never told jokes, joined in the laughs, choosing only to stare
balefully across at me. The others told him to back off, that I was OK.
They stood up for me, and he did back off from the more extreme
provocation. But I chose never to go in the goods lift with him
alone.

Fortunately, he left after a few weeks.

Thus I learned that there are people in this world who are simply
irrational on certain subjects. Perhaps Ted went on to be a good
father, loved by his family - I don't know.
But big chip? Sure!

When I found my first proper job in 1968, I had to have a year's
training, and could choose where I went. For a change, I chose Leeds,
where I had some friends, and spent a very happy time there - a bit
more 'upmarket' than Liverpool I must admit, and parts of it seemed
quite 'posh' to me. But no-one ever made any remark about me not being
from Leeds, or treated me different.

In 1970, when I'd been in London just a year, I went back to Leeds with
a mate I worked with in London. We went out to the pub with his
friends.

Let's set the scene - there's me in this flowered shirt my girlfriend
(who was with me) had made, plus some flares (fairly conservative but
coloured). Also, it's hard to place me by my accent. I did have quite a
strong Liverpool accent, but my mother came from the south of England,
so I was a bit 'mixed' in my vowel sounds, but my year in London had
hardly changed that. These guys, my mate's mates, were generally in
dark trousers, white shirts, with healthy Leeds accents.

They seemed OK at first - we talked about this and that, had a pint or
two, then my mate nipped off somewhere.

Then they started to needle, eventually one called me a 'clance'
(homosexual).

"What's this all about?" I asked, face to face with him.

"You come up here from London and you think we're all stupid, don't
ya?"

"No"

"Yeh, you lot just think you're better than us in the North, well
you're not!"

I said "do you know where I come from?"

"Er, no!"

"I've been in London for a last year, before that I lived here"

"Yeh, but you're not from here"

"No, I'm from Liverpool"

"Wha'"

"Lived there most of my life, only been to London a few times until I
had to go work there"

"Oh" Collapse of stout party! He actually did have the grace to mutter
"Sorry" and wandered off, staying a bit shamefaced the rest of the
evening.

Most of the others were fine, stayed and chatted, apologised for their
mate.

But what if I had been from London? Would that have made him right?
Justified?

I have met Scots, Welsh, Northerners, even Australians, all with the
same type of chip (not ALL scots, welsh?.just a few of each), which
pops up almost before they even have any conversation with you.

"You look down on us"

"No I don't" (I don't!)

"Oh yes you do????

and so on.

I generally have to throw in the 'actually I'm from Liverpool' just to
close off the topic as it's boring. It doesn't work with the Scots nor
the Australians (for them I try 'I got a couple of uncles in Australia,
been there years, they love it!').

But you can't win 'em all.

My mental image of people who do this is of someone slapping themselves
across the face because 'you were about to do it'

'no I wasn't'

'Yes (oof!) you were?????.'

I said at the start, the instinct that drives this is natural and
understandable. But we human beings live our lives challenging and
moderating our instincts to fit with other people, to be sociable, fit
in a community.

The people with 'chips' are not dumb.

I wonder - does exercising their chip make them happy or sad?

I'll never be a psychologist!