Inclusivity gaffes & what to do with them
Column: Forgive us our microaggressions, says René Carayol.
I was once privileged to be the host of a leadership event at the luxurious King Juan Carlos Hotel in Barcelona. Before the day commenced, I decided to take a breath of fresh air outside to gather my thoughts, when a brand new Rolls-Royce pulled up.
A chauffeur in a smart grey uniform jumped out and held the door open for a radiant middle-aged woman in finest haute couture, her hair immaculate and finished off with just a touch of stylish jewellery. The chauffeur stepped behind her and lifted an expensive fur coat from her shoulders and placed it over her arm.
There I was in my regular business attire, a dark suit and a white shirt. The woman approached me and asked where the convention was taking place. I told her it was on the lower ground floor in the ballroom. Placing the fur coat over my arm, she thanked me and walked off through the sliding doors.
