I GOT CALLED “GRANNY” AT WORK—NOW I’M QUESTIONING EVERYTHING

I’ve had gray hairs since I was 34—just a streak at first near my temple, which my partner jokingly called my “storm stripe.” Now, at 38, it’s spread more, but I’ve never dyed it. Not to make a statement—just didn’t care enough. Last week, at work, I walked into the break room and heard Jamal from accounting joking, “Ask Granny over there—she’s been around since the faxes.” People laughed. I didn’t. I tried to play it off, grabbed my sad salad, and left. But it stung. Later, the guy I was training, Tyrese, started calling me “Ma’am” in this awkward way, like he didn’t know what else to say. That night,

I stared at myself in the mirror, tugging my hair back, even used a virtual hair-dye app. Then, out of nowhere, my mom texted me a selfie—smiling at the farmers market, her gray streaks shining, no filter. She looked proud, unbothered. The next morning, there was a box on my desk. No note. Just a soft, hand-crocheted beanie—gray and midnight blue—with a card: “Wear your crown with pride.” My cheeks flushed. Was it encouragement or a jab?

Curious, I tried it on that evening. It actually looked good—matched my streaks. I remembered my mom’s photo and smiled. Maybe this was something to embrace, not hide. The next day, I wore the beanie to work. Tyrese gave me a nod. Jamal, sheepish, came over. “Hey, about that joke… I was out of line. You’ve got experience. I forget we’re the same age.” I smiled. “Just call me by my name, alright? ” Later,

Tyrese apologized, too. “Didn’t realize the ‘Ma’am’ thing sounded weird.” I appreciated it. When I asked if he left the beanie, he laughed. “I can’t even sew a button.” So, the mystery remained. A quiet gift from someone who saw me. That week, I noticed silver in others too—like Rina in IT. We talked, and I shared my story. She laughed. “Must be nice to have a secret ally.” By Friday, I got an anonymous email: “Heard you got a new hat. Looks good on you.” No name. No reply possible. I smiled. It felt like a small office fairytale—someone stitching kindness into a stressful world. And for once, I wasn’t ashamed of my gray. It was just another part of me.