Mille feuilles

many layers of colour and texture with an explorer at the heart of it

May 2009

I've had reason to attend various occasions recently that have thrown me together (for the first time in some time) with several new people in a social context. Although I'm required to engage professionally with new people all the time and to establish rapport quickly, and am at ease with doing it, I am really, really uncomfortable with small talk in social situations. Always have been.

Not that I have any trouble talking about small or insignificant things, sometimes at length. Oh no. The content of many of my blog entries and the fact that I could discuss, for ages, the qualities of the perfect handbag or pair of shoes, the ideal configuration for packing a small suitcase, or the relative merits of biscuits in sub-categories of with-chocolate or without, are all testament to this. No, what I mean is the conventional small talk that passes for normal when first meeting someone, even in those situations that are meant to be social and, one would therefore assume, less formal and formulaic and more fun?

One of the questions I hate most being asked when meeting people socially for the first time is "what do you do?". When by this they mean, "what is your job?", "what do you do for a living?", "what field, role, level of ambition, success achieved, salary bracket, can I assign to you and what can I infer from those about who you are?". 

What they are really asking is "how can I begin to define you?", which is not what I have the problem with, because we all have to begin building our picture of someone new somewhere. But why is this invariably the first thing that people ask? After talking about the weather of course. 

And it's not even that I mind talking about what I do for a living per se. I do think it's possible to get a feel for who a person is by considering their profession and having a conversation about it. But it's only one tiny aspect of who we are and, unless we share a common interest in it or it's especially unusual, although not uninteresting, it's often one of the least interesting things about us. My problem lies with how that becomes THE defining thing that shapes and is taken away from that encounter. I don't mind that they go away knowing very little about me, because in the ten minutes one might have a conversation with someone new in these situations, there's a limit to what one can learn about them. But why, of all the things someone might choose to walk away knowing about me, is their choice to know what job I do? 

And equally frustrating is that I'm apparently expected to respond in kind and ask about what they do too. I honestly couldn't care less at that point what they do for a living. In the nicest possible way. Eventually I will probably be interested in knowing what it is that someone does as their day job and I'll be delighted to discover that they fit solar heating, or create fine art, or are raising two gorgeous children, or do open heart surgery. But as supplementary information to the fact that I've already established that they love margaritas, or are able to wiggle their ears in a clockwise direction, or like to dip their fingers in paint and then onto a canvas, or love the smell of summer rain on a hot tarmac. Those are the sort of qualities, skills or interests I'm seeking in people I might like to eventually call friends. I don't want to present my personal ideology or a full history in our first encounter. And I don't expect them to share theirs. I'm happy to keep it light and "small" if that's more comfortable. But how am I going to decide if I'd like to get to know someone better if all I first learn about them is what they do for a living? And how do they decide that about me?

"What do you do?" 

I am always so tempted to answer the question with a question and sometimes, if I'm feeling contrary, I do. And then another, and then another. I'm far more comfortable and interested in hearing about them than talking about me anyway. And they then leave knowing only that I was a good listener with a slightly weird name. Or sometimes I'd like to say something completely random like, "What do I do? I eat spaghetti with my left hand" and leave it at that. At other times I have tried to respond without labelling what I do and have had people look at me like I misunderstood and then ask me again, more slowly and perhaps a little more loudly, "yes. but. what. do. you. DO?". I can never bring myself to be rude. And I'm all for some of the social niceties but this isn't one of them. I don't think harm is intended by asking the question. I think it's often just a thoughtless, pointless (dare I say lazy?) way to open a conversation.

It's so all pervasive too. I understand that for some people how I earn my rent might in fact be the most interesting thing about me. But for everyone? Really? And if they're trying to establish some rapport with me, how do they feel this will do it? I'd be so much more engaged and delighted if someone asked me, "What do you love?" or, "What an interesting nail polish colour you have on your toes. What do purple toes tell me about you?" or, "If you won the lottery, what would you do with your winnings?" or, "What's your favourite way to spend five minutes on your own?". Or even if they modified the old chestnut slightly to, "What do you do when you aren't doing what you do for a living?". Or, "Why do you do what you do for a living, whatever that is?". These are the sorts of things I'd be more interested in knowing about them too but I know I'm considered a bit odd for doing so, or too direct, so I find that I refrain in most cases from asking, and just escape as quickly as I can.

Okay, I know. It's unlikely that this convention is going to change any time soon. Or that I'm going to entirely avoid these situations unless I become a hermit (sooooo tempting some days). So what do I do? How do I make this bearable? How do I answer this question?  And what is it I really want to convey about myself in those first ten minutes? How can I not answer the question but still answer the question? Because I do many things that I'd be happy to share...

• I do love to write, but I'm not a writer.
  
• I do love to paint, but I'm not a painter.
  
• I do love to take photographs, but I'm not a photographer.
  
• I do love to travel, but I more often stay at home.
• I do love to learn, but the more I learn, the less I know.
  
• I do love the rural seashore, but I live in a city.
  
• I do make a point of being punctual, but I don't wear a watch.
• I do read great literature, but I also love a girlie magazine.
• I do believe I have an artistic spirit, but I'm not an artist.

And so on.

I will tell them what I do for a living if they really want to know, but I don't understand why of all the possible questions they might formulate they would ask that one, right after the ubiquitous, "Lovely weather we've been having, isn't it?".

Or am I just weird?

Happy Friday Lovelies!

♥

p.s. there's still time to enter the summer giveaway if you'd like to play along...