Small Talk - Reasons
I'm not a small talker, I'm a big talker. Ask the homeless people I ignore asking me to buy them lunch, or was it train fare, or was it money to buy illegal substances? When I was new to NYC, I mistook the phrase on the small cardboard placard next to the young lady sitting on the platform "Spare Change", to imply she was giving away free change, and I looked at the dilapidated state of this relatively young lady with hair strewn all over her face and head bent, and asked my self why was she giving out free change? She could certainly use the change, I mean next to parking meters she would do much better trying to part with that change; and more importantly why aren't people rushing to get this so called "Spare Change". Then, I saw it, people dropping change in her coffee cup, as they went there merry ways. Yes, This is the kind of clueless I am.
Subways are no talk zone, let alone small talk, unless you're the hobo in the corner mumbling to his imaginary friends, or the one woman who I thought was talking to herself till I noticed the small earpiece she was talking into, and the GUCCI bag she was holding, and all the sophisticated bling, which made her NOT a hobo. or a self-talker, but I try to ignore and try not to judge or touch the surroundings, unless I absolutely have to, and hope that whatever I touched /judged doesn't come back to haunt me.
Elevator Small Talk:
Oh ! The awkward elevator small talk! This is just maybe, a necessity, hear me out on this, wat if I'm stuck with smelly, scowly, scratchy, and that dude that just stares into the phone and pretends to not hear Doris on her phone spelling her name slowly to her Dr ? I think? Or her Parole Officer, 'coz why would u spell all those vowels? slowly, one alphabet at a time Dolores, Diafonte, Morales, that's what I think she spelled. I was too busy hyperventilating, thinking - what if we all got stuck on the elevator when it breaks,/stops/moves like its going to stop any minute, and these bunch will perhaps be the last people I spend my last living moments with. So, maybe they ought-ta know how I feel, or maybe my name, they should know the kind of day I was having before I passed on to the light, and vice-versa. BTW, I should like to know about Dlores/Dolores? Was she having a good day so far? Scowly wasn't though; 'coz when I tried to push the elevator button, to let the person who was trying get on this particular car, I could feel the scowl burning my back. This poor sap outside kept pressing on the button, thinking this snail would turn into a hare. When the fated elevator door opened he saw us, packed to capacity. He realized, unless he planned to sit on scowly's suitcase, there was no space. "We're full", Scowly growled, and if the poor sap was even thinking of riding atop his suitcase, he gave up. He smiled sheepishly and said "Sorry", but I knew that he really wasn't. 'Coz he then pressed the button again. The door opened, again, with the party of us, scowling collectively at the button freak. It is just another day in elevator paradise. But, if we were small talking or talking, it wouldn't have felt like it did-the roller coaster that you can't get off until the ride is over.
Supermarket Small Talk:
I feel awkward trying to sometimes, make that always, before I hand my 50 coupons (yeah I am that annoying couponer) to the teenage cashier just trying to make it through his graveyard shift. I feel bad, for this kid who's thinking about riding his bike back home to HW and I just made his evening so much longer. So, I have to say "How are u" even though, I know he's calling me all those names the cashiers call couponers. Also, I want to say "Sorry" to Bill, whose behind me on that register, when I realize he has a loaf of bread only, and that it's gonna be a while till my transaction is over, what with the 100 items and 50 coupons. I wish Bill would go to the next register, and not sigh every-time an item is scanned, 'coz honestly, I feel bad already. Like swimming in my own sweat bad, and Eww. So, I leave the candy bar for the cashier and a sorry looking smile for Bill, as I blurt out "Good Luck with the finals", to the kid behind the register, maybe I was right 'coz he said, "Thanks, I really need it", I hope he meant for the finals, and not the rest of his night.
Small talk cannot change who we are as people, or how we feel about things/world around us, but sometimes it makes the day better for someone; but not always. It must for the mailman who you see everyday leaving your neighbor's mail in your mailbox, or the co-worker who always makes you press their floor button on the elevator (we work on the same floor , so its ok), 'coz "nobody wants to be a germivore" but someone has to do the dirty work, (I know I invented that word), but we're all in this together. While, I can't make all the wolves in the woods go away, with my small talk; maybe I can ask about the good things in there lives, to make them forget about the bad. Talking can be therapeutic, specially, when you have no one else to talk to. Everyone needs once in a while to unload a little, and little is when small talk helps. Also, in the case of cashiers to look forward to the candy bar at the end of their shift. Now, I will never be the Kleenex lady, but maybe I'll always be the Small talk lady.
Subways are no talk zone, let alone small talk, unless you're the hobo in the corner mumbling to his imaginary friends, or the one woman who I thought was talking to herself till I noticed the small earpiece she was talking into, and the GUCCI bag she was holding, and all the sophisticated bling, which made her NOT a hobo. or a self-talker, but I try to ignore and try not to judge or touch the surroundings, unless I absolutely have to, and hope that whatever I touched /judged doesn't come back to haunt me.
Elevator Small Talk:
Oh ! The awkward elevator small talk! This is just maybe, a necessity, hear me out on this, wat if I'm stuck with smelly, scowly, scratchy, and that dude that just stares into the phone and pretends to not hear Doris on her phone spelling her name slowly to her Dr ? I think? Or her Parole Officer, 'coz why would u spell all those vowels? slowly, one alphabet at a time Dolores, Diafonte, Morales, that's what I think she spelled. I was too busy hyperventilating, thinking - what if we all got stuck on the elevator when it breaks,/stops/moves like its going to stop any minute, and these bunch will perhaps be the last people I spend my last living moments with. So, maybe they ought-ta know how I feel, or maybe my name, they should know the kind of day I was having before I passed on to the light, and vice-versa. BTW, I should like to know about Dlores/Dolores? Was she having a good day so far? Scowly wasn't though; 'coz when I tried to push the elevator button, to let the person who was trying get on this particular car, I could feel the scowl burning my back. This poor sap outside kept pressing on the button, thinking this snail would turn into a hare. When the fated elevator door opened he saw us, packed to capacity. He realized, unless he planned to sit on scowly's suitcase, there was no space. "We're full", Scowly growled, and if the poor sap was even thinking of riding atop his suitcase, he gave up. He smiled sheepishly and said "Sorry", but I knew that he really wasn't. 'Coz he then pressed the button again. The door opened, again, with the party of us, scowling collectively at the button freak. It is just another day in elevator paradise. But, if we were small talking or talking, it wouldn't have felt like it did-the roller coaster that you can't get off until the ride is over.
Supermarket Small Talk:
I feel awkward trying to sometimes, make that always, before I hand my 50 coupons (yeah I am that annoying couponer) to the teenage cashier just trying to make it through his graveyard shift. I feel bad, for this kid who's thinking about riding his bike back home to HW and I just made his evening so much longer. So, I have to say "How are u" even though, I know he's calling me all those names the cashiers call couponers. Also, I want to say "Sorry" to Bill, whose behind me on that register, when I realize he has a loaf of bread only, and that it's gonna be a while till my transaction is over, what with the 100 items and 50 coupons. I wish Bill would go to the next register, and not sigh every-time an item is scanned, 'coz honestly, I feel bad already. Like swimming in my own sweat bad, and Eww. So, I leave the candy bar for the cashier and a sorry looking smile for Bill, as I blurt out "Good Luck with the finals", to the kid behind the register, maybe I was right 'coz he said, "Thanks, I really need it", I hope he meant for the finals, and not the rest of his night.
Small talk cannot change who we are as people, or how we feel about things/world around us, but sometimes it makes the day better for someone; but not always. It must for the mailman who you see everyday leaving your neighbor's mail in your mailbox, or the co-worker who always makes you press their floor button on the elevator (we work on the same floor , so its ok), 'coz "nobody wants to be a germivore" but someone has to do the dirty work, (I know I invented that word), but we're all in this together. While, I can't make all the wolves in the woods go away, with my small talk; maybe I can ask about the good things in there lives, to make them forget about the bad. Talking can be therapeutic, specially, when you have no one else to talk to. Everyone needs once in a while to unload a little, and little is when small talk helps. Also, in the case of cashiers to look forward to the candy bar at the end of their shift. Now, I will never be the Kleenex lady, but maybe I'll always be the Small talk lady.
I like the way you write Nazia.
ReplyDeleteTrue, small talk is important. I realized this after we landed in Nigeria. Here small talk is a part of social etiquette. So we keep aside few minutes for the guards, drivers, maids etc, on our way to office early morning, and we ask about their day/family /work etc.