Monday, December 29, 2008

Friendly People

I used to think this was just a "southern thing" but I've seen it spreading apace to points north as well. What is this scourge, you ask? Strangers who talk to you and ask you questions. While I know it is probably considered nice and polite to smile and say hi to random strangers, I've never seen the point in it. What is worse is the amount of random people who will try to strike up an entire conversation with you at the airport, or in line at the grocery store, or anywhere in public, for that matter. My private life is private and while small-talk is fine, I GUESS, I don't really want to know the intimate details of your life just because we happen to be standing next to each other and I'm certainly not going to share mine with you. Please don't ask. And then when I give generic answers, please don't pry further. It is maddening and obtrusive and rude! Phew. I feel much better now.


lalaland13 said...

Sometimes I don't mind, like if the check-out lady at Wal-Mart sees my purchases and asks if I have a cat. Other times, like when the man handing out Bibles at the jail asks where I go to church, I very much mind. I had trouble getting rid of that one.

I complain about religion a lot, don't I? Life would be easier if people would 1) stop assuming you go to church and 2) stop assuming you're married or want to be.

The Domina said...

My siblings and I were just talking about what we do when someone asks where we go to church (of course assuming, as they do, that EVERYONE goes to church). Two counts of "I just moved here and haven't found one," one count of "I don't go to church," and one count of "I'm Jewish" and there didn't seem to be an answer that successfully got people to stop asking or try a follow-up pitch.

Anonymous said...

The worst for me is on planes. I usually try to have my headphones in and a book in my lap as soon as I'm in my seat. My hope is this lets the person next to me know I'm not interested in chatting. I once had a woman sit next to me and start up a conversation, even though I had my headphones in and a stack of work in my lap. She proceeded to get drunk and talk about herself for two and a half hours. It was torture.