When I first started a new job some years ago, part of the training we took was in writing letters to policy holders regarding approval or decline of their medical benefits. One of the popular medical benefits we approved was adult diapers, euphemistically characterized as “incontinence supplies.”

I wrote a letter declining these supplies, then submitted it to my trainer for review, as was the usual procedure. She read it over and told me it was fine, except that I needed to change “incontinence supplies” to “incontinent supplies.”

I stared blankly at her.

“That’s what they’re called,” she said. “Incontinent supplies.”

I said, “Well, that would imply that the supplies themselves are incontinent. And that doesn’t sound right.”

She repeated, “Well, that’s what they’re called. So you need to change the letter.”

I am a grammar nerd and have an undergraduate degree in English. While those may not be the most impressive of credentials, they were enough for me to get on my high horse and absolutely balk at her suggestion that I change the letter. I tried to explain to her the difference between “incontinence” and “incontinent” - that one is a state of being, and the other is an adjective.

She would have none of it. In fact, she was so obstinate about it that she reported me to HR for insubordination. If I had had even the slightest doubt about whether or not I had been right, I would have been terrified going to speak to the HR rep. As it was, I went with a light heart, knowing that it wouldn’t even matter what the rep said - I knew I was right.

The HR rep essentially blew off the complaint and told me to go back to work. I never figured out if it was because she thought I was right, or because the complaint was frivolous, or both. The trainer disappeared some time after that. She likely transferred to another department, but all I know is that one day she didn’t come to work, and no-one ever mentioned her again.