Damn Midwestern face

[jonquil]

Things having been what they is, I needed a break. I signed up for the mobile pedicure van that shows up at work every other week -- you may all pause to glare at the screen before moving on.  I said in the appointment that I was really stressed and wanted a chance to chill out.

What I got was information on all the following:

• The proprietress's unhappiness with her nail technician, whom she had just fired the previous day for failing to pay her station rent, including repeated enumerations of the technician's vices.
• The proprietress's having been up until 3 AM at the hospital with her personal assistant, who had broken a clavicle.
• How much time the previous appointment, posing for photographs to promote the business, had consumed.
• Life histories for all three of the proprietress's dogs, past and current, including tragic deaths.
• The proprietress's infertility and subsequent divorce, twenty years ago.
• The proprietress's having raised her nieces after her sister died young.
• What the proprietress said to her mother on the latter's deathbed.

This flow of information continued after I explained that because we were running late, I needed to begin reading a work-related book.  At least once she said something requiring an answer, then popped up "But you're supposed to be reading, so I won't bother you!"  My toes are moderately shiny, but the proprietress is nowhere near as good at nails as her technician.  Sigh.

I need to hire a New Yorker to give me lessons in I Don't Talk To Anybody face.

Comments

[From: theodosia]

Two words: Fake iPod. You don't actually have to listen to it, just have the earbuds in and your eyes closed.

[From: oursin]

Many years ago, during the Slow Motion Trainwreck Relationship, I went to the Samaritans (in person visit after a phone-call). And got somebody who told me All About Himself and Various Family Traumas, possibly because some people are just not good with silence and people who take time and encouragement to speak about what's on their mind. Or possibly just because he thought I need to know other people's problems to put mine in proportion.

I still think that neither is how a trained Samaritan should react.

[From: jonquil]

No. That is absolutely horrible. I hope that soon thereafter he was hit by a bus caught and retrained.

[From: onyxlynx]

Hmmm.

It must be a learnable thing, because Midwesterners come to New York to live all the time and become indistinguishable from native New Yorkers. Native New Yorkers are handed a mask on their first subway trip and encouraged to grow into it. Whether it's teachable is a different question. Try this mindset: you are at all times surrounded by complete strangers who can hear and see everything and you must project a privacy field. Hard.

Miss Manners would probably suggest non-committal, non-germane, slightly distracted answers until the other party Gets The Point, but some of them won't. Ever. For them, one might try interrupting with "Well, why aren't there more banjos in klezmer bands?" with every expectation of an answer. Warning: there might be one.

[From: sara]

...who needs a banjo when you've got a balalaika?