Tactless Children

A few days ago, after a tremendously painful day of hanging posters for my internship (for free, might I add), I collapsed into a subway seat with the posture of a dying Victorian child. My phone had died. No music. No distraction. Just me, and the loud, unfiltered hum of humanity.

So, I did what any self-respecting emotionally fragile person with no data plan would do:

I people-watched. And I eavesdropped. Intensely.

One mildly unhinged talent I’ve developed thanks to years of musical training: I can focus on one voice in a sea of noise. It’s like sonar. Or spite.

It’s very effective for listening to strangers without being caught.

Enter: A family.

Mom, dad, a seven-year-old child, and what I assumed was the designated "Uncle."

They sat directly across from me—tragically within perfect eavesdropping range.

They had iced teas. They were happy. I was not.

They were chatting about which direction to go next, visibly baffled by the Toronto subway system.

Let’s talk about the “Northbound/Southbound” disaster that is Canada’s subway system.

I’ve lived here for a while, and I still don’t understand how people in this city speak in cardinal directions like it’s their first language. They just casually say, “It’s north,” like their brains came pre-installed with a magnetic chip.

I, meanwhile, rotate in place like a confused pigeon every time someone says “head west.”

While I was busy thinking about GPS-instillation to myself, the kid looked up at his uncle and asked, loud and clear:

“Why don’t you have a job yet?”

The uncle? Absolutely flabbergasted.

It was honestly the purest form of free speech I’ve ever seen.

We treat honesty like a child-only activity. But imagine if we all just… said what we meant.

You wonder something? Ask.

You’re uncomfortable? Say so.

You find someone beautiful? Compliment them.

We wrap ourselves in fake etiquette no one asked for, and then call real honesty “immature.”

Which is, let’s be real, the most immature thing of all.

No misunderstandings should left.

Or questions about each other.

We should be more immature to be mature.