In the early 1990’s I was working at Citicorp Retail Services, in the Sales Processing department, on Route 109 in Farmingdale, New York. Eventually we moved to Old Country Road in Melville, New York. My immediate supervisors were named Carole and Yolanda. All the people in that department were really good and likable. I enjoyed working with them. During the time we were still in Farmingdale Yolanda’s husband Stanley died. We all went to Stanley’s wake. Unfortunately one day while at work, only a fairly short time after Stanley’s death-it wasn’t any more than a few months later-something came up and I made a casual flippant remark about death. It was an otherwise entirely harmless thing and under much better circumstances no one would have even bothered to think twice about it. Because of Stanley’s recent death, though, Yolanda’s feelings were badly hurt. She was visibly shaken. The other people in the department told me that I never should have said such a thing. Fortunately it didn’t put any permanent strain on my relationship with either Yolanda or anyone else in the department. I felt truly bad for quite a while afterward though. I’ve always been a bit hypersensitive anyway and have never been able to handle being subjected to any extra strain. Another character defect of mine is the fact that I’ve always been prone toward saying things without first considering the context of the circumstances and how people may be counted on to react. That time, because of my having inadvertently said something that dealt with such a very personal matter, it led to a lot of trouble.