"So, have things been busy today?"
For some reason, that is the only question I can ever think of asking an individual that is cutting my hair.
That's it.
If a conversation is to carry on from that point, I either need some feedback or I require something quirky to take place that I can quip on. (Most likely in a fashion I deem humorous, but others find a bit odd... Such is life.) If these requirements aren't met, my hair is snipped in silence while my inner monologue continually shoots down ideas for new talking points. ("So, do you ever just get sick of hair?"... No, that's stupid... "When did you first realize that you might have a knack for using a pair of clippers?"... Nope, that might come off as offensive... "Which is better: shampoo or conditioner?"... Aaaarrrggghhh!)
This admission is probably not a surprise to anyone that knows me. I have been called many things in my life (including "Doug" on a continual basis by someone who never could seem to pick up on my name... but that's neither here nor there), but "outgoing conversationalist" is not one of them. It seems that words have always come to me a bit more naturally when writing. It's much easier for me to sound eloquent when typing or writing than when pressed to speak "off the cuff."
In many cases, those who prefer to only speak when they have something relevant (or at least something deemed witty) to say are referred to as the "strong, silent type." Alas, that "strong" label has eluded me for all of my 26 years, and "weak, silent type" just doesn't have the same ring to it.
Anyway, the point of all this isn't to simply discuss my social inadequacies... It's to dissect a couple more situations in which the awkward conversations that I am prone to having often present themselves. Hopefully, I am not the only one that struggles to strike up life-emboldening conversation in these spots.
Elevators
"Hi there. How are you today?"
What else can be said in an elevator? You are encountering a stranger, and your face-time with them depends entirely on the number of floors this form of vertical conveyance must travel. Riding up two floors doesn't exactly allow time to get to know a person.
Sure, there's always the option of playing the "ignore them and mind your own business" card, but if you're in for a long ride, prolonged silence can make things even more awkward. Just think, if your elevator happens to get stuck and you're trapped for hours, those first few minutes you spent avoiding eye contact could come back to haunt you. After all, they might have Tic-Tacs to snack on.
If I had to place a wager on it (and if I do, we live in a pretty crazy world), I'd say most of my lifetime rides in the 'vator* have come in hotels. Sadly, the phrase, "So, 12th floor, huh? That must be a pretty good view," can only take you so far.
*Kids, feel free to use this as the new, hip slang. You know you've been longing for something to call an elevator.
I guess if you're riding the elevator at a hospital, you can always try to guess the reason that the other occupant is there visiting. "So, do you know someone that is now appendix free?" or "Let me guess, someone got a severe case of the gout," could both be potential ice breakers, but you're also taking a pretty big risk by digging into visitation motivation. If you hear "oozing," "urinary tract," or "million-to-one shot," you may find yourself wishing you had taken the stairs.
Taxis
As a young child, I flirted with the idea of one day becoming one of the few, the proud, the taxi drivers. Deciding whether or not steering away from that profession was a smart decision is not my verdict to strike, however I do know that most the cabbies that I have experienced in my years since turning my back on that profession have not been lauded for excelling in the art of conversation.
In most cases, their scripts of lines rarely stray from "Where to?," "uh huh," "okay," and "We're here, that'll be (insert overpriced charge here)."*
*I forgot to mention hurried lines of French spoken into a cell phone. Most of the utterances could have been French cursing or making fun of my head (which may or may not be too large for my body) and I wouldn't have known any different... Viva Montreal!
Alas, if you find yourself in a cab, you probably won't be worried about conversation anyway. It's hard to conjure up talking points when you are grasping for something to hold on to as you weave in and out of traffic showing no regard for rules of the road. At times you might even wonder if your driver is a failed stuntman and is attempting to redeem himself by recreating scenes out of movies like The Bourne Identity... There's nothing quite like leaving a tip for a near-death experience.
For some reason, that is the only question I can ever think of asking an individual that is cutting my hair.
That's it.
If a conversation is to carry on from that point, I either need some feedback or I require something quirky to take place that I can quip on. (Most likely in a fashion I deem humorous, but others find a bit odd... Such is life.) If these requirements aren't met, my hair is snipped in silence while my inner monologue continually shoots down ideas for new talking points. ("So, do you ever just get sick of hair?"... No, that's stupid... "When did you first realize that you might have a knack for using a pair of clippers?"... Nope, that might come off as offensive... "Which is better: shampoo or conditioner?"... Aaaarrrggghhh!)
This admission is probably not a surprise to anyone that knows me. I have been called many things in my life (including "Doug" on a continual basis by someone who never could seem to pick up on my name... but that's neither here nor there), but "outgoing conversationalist" is not one of them. It seems that words have always come to me a bit more naturally when writing. It's much easier for me to sound eloquent when typing or writing than when pressed to speak "off the cuff."
In many cases, those who prefer to only speak when they have something relevant (or at least something deemed witty) to say are referred to as the "strong, silent type." Alas, that "strong" label has eluded me for all of my 26 years, and "weak, silent type" just doesn't have the same ring to it.
Anyway, the point of all this isn't to simply discuss my social inadequacies... It's to dissect a couple more situations in which the awkward conversations that I am prone to having often present themselves. Hopefully, I am not the only one that struggles to strike up life-emboldening conversation in these spots.
Elevators
"Hi there. How are you today?"
What else can be said in an elevator? You are encountering a stranger, and your face-time with them depends entirely on the number of floors this form of vertical conveyance must travel. Riding up two floors doesn't exactly allow time to get to know a person.
Sure, there's always the option of playing the "ignore them and mind your own business" card, but if you're in for a long ride, prolonged silence can make things even more awkward. Just think, if your elevator happens to get stuck and you're trapped for hours, those first few minutes you spent avoiding eye contact could come back to haunt you. After all, they might have Tic-Tacs to snack on.
If I had to place a wager on it (and if I do, we live in a pretty crazy world), I'd say most of my lifetime rides in the 'vator* have come in hotels. Sadly, the phrase, "So, 12th floor, huh? That must be a pretty good view," can only take you so far.
*Kids, feel free to use this as the new, hip slang. You know you've been longing for something to call an elevator.
I guess if you're riding the elevator at a hospital, you can always try to guess the reason that the other occupant is there visiting. "So, do you know someone that is now appendix free?" or "Let me guess, someone got a severe case of the gout," could both be potential ice breakers, but you're also taking a pretty big risk by digging into visitation motivation. If you hear "oozing," "urinary tract," or "million-to-one shot," you may find yourself wishing you had taken the stairs.
Taxis
As a young child, I flirted with the idea of one day becoming one of the few, the proud, the taxi drivers. Deciding whether or not steering away from that profession was a smart decision is not my verdict to strike, however I do know that most the cabbies that I have experienced in my years since turning my back on that profession have not been lauded for excelling in the art of conversation.
In most cases, their scripts of lines rarely stray from "Where to?," "uh huh," "okay," and "We're here, that'll be (insert overpriced charge here)."*
*I forgot to mention hurried lines of French spoken into a cell phone. Most of the utterances could have been French cursing or making fun of my head (which may or may not be too large for my body) and I wouldn't have known any different... Viva Montreal!
Alas, if you find yourself in a cab, you probably won't be worried about conversation anyway. It's hard to conjure up talking points when you are grasping for something to hold on to as you weave in and out of traffic showing no regard for rules of the road. At times you might even wonder if your driver is a failed stuntman and is attempting to redeem himself by recreating scenes out of movies like The Bourne Identity... There's nothing quite like leaving a tip for a near-death experience.
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