So I’ve worked as an advertising copywriter most of my adult life, and have written a shit-ton of brochures and other materials — sales-related and not. For the past 10 years, I had worked for several agencies of record for large, consumer banking clients.

So I knew more than most people about how consumer financial products, like home loans and lines of credit, worked and how and to whom they are presented to potential customers, and why. (This was in the mid 90s, when it was much harder for the average person to find and compare these products. But I lived and breathed the stuff, as did the client, and I had the benefit of this “inside” knowledge.)

So a male friend had been shopping around for a credit card, and I was excited to tell him about this one, a VISA which was a “loss leader” being tested as a way to lure new customers away from competitor banks. Note this client was (and still is) a MAJOR institution every American who uses banks will recognize.

I gave him the brochure I had written, and told him to check it out, that it was an unusually good deal as far as cards go, with all the bells and whistles he wanted.

“I’ll look at it, Caroline,” he tells me. “But you have to really be careful; these banks use a lot of weasel words to try and convince you it’s a good deal.”

But every single one of those “weasel words” was written by me! And he was well aware of that, as well as my experience writing for the very product he was looking to buy.

My male friend did end up signing up for this card, and later thanked me for “bringing it to his attention.” He’d gone to the fucking bank and apparently had a teller (probably also male) answer his questions about the offer — all based on the FAQs I fucking wrote for bank employees to answer customer questions. He actually brought this document home to show me, and I recognized my work.

I don’t blame him for verifying the information and terms. But I’m still a little ticked off at the ‘splaining.