Friday the 13th

When I woke up in the morning three days ago, I was grimly reminded by a melted chocolate candy bar on my pillow that it was the thirteenth of June; a Friday. I went to the wash off the sticky remnants of my midnight snack when I found that my faucet was leaking. I rolled my eyes to acknowledge that this day would be formulaically unlucky. "Hogwash!" I shouted in attempts to prove to the governing stars that luck was mere happenstance and that Gregorian calendarial date had nothing to do with it. I mean, that while I couldn't find my car keys this morning, I have had many similar frantic mornings in the past. (Why, last Monday I had to run naked and dripping out of the shower to turn off not just one, but three different alarm clocks on snooze). Yet, simply for theoretical purposes, I decided to not take a single risk with Lady Luck, I showered quickly, washed behind my ears, wore clean underwear, quickly bolted my house early and made sure not to step anywhere near the mud. As I drove out of the driveway, I looked both ways two times each. I'm not superstitious, but I'm damn well eager to avoid any astrological influence. The traffic lights were all out from the storm the previous night and road crews failed to pull down the stop signs at the nearest intersection. I, again, looked both ways twice and pulled out at four miles an hour to make my turn. Nope, nothing was going to make this day unlucky for me, I maintained total control. I vowed not to breach from my normal routine. Well, that was until my insatiable craving for a McDonald's breakfast sandwich at Union Station hit. To deviate from my normal routine showed lack of foresight, but my voracity outweighed my veracity and I went ahead. Hold your breath readers as I recall what happened next: nothing. "Ah ha!" I quite literally bellowed, "I have defeated the prognostications of evil!" You should have seen the look I got in the middle of a packed train station McDonald's. Everyone was looking at me quite oddly. As happy as a pig in....as a clam, I continued on my morning commute. I took the bus, walked to my office and attended a morning meeting all without problem. It seemed to me that I had defeated Mrs. Misfortune (the nemesis of Lady Luck) until when I began to get ready to leave my office and take my briefcase from my closet that I noticed in my peripheral vision that I had completed my entire day with a massive chocolate stain on my rear end. No wonder the odd looks, I had just broken my own record for total unit stupidity accumulated in one month, and I still have two weeks to go.

Banter on Chit-Chat

When I am asked the question, “How are you?” I respond with “Well”, even if I am not well. I never respond differently so as not to convert small talk into large talk. No further inquiry should be needed. I will only reply differently when I have asked the question first and the other’s response is “Good”. When the question is reciprocated, I will also reply with a grammatically incorrect answer; “Good”. This is so I don’t appear elitist.*ª

You should never hear:

A: “How are you?”
B: “I’m well. How are you?”
A: “Not so well, actually. Life has been proverbially sucking.”
B: “Okay, have a great day.”
A: “Thanks, you too!”

The above conversation has never happened. I wish it had, and that I had played the part of person A. I don’t need people prying themselves into my personal life. Conversations occurring in passing, while walking down a hallway or in an uncomfortable environment such as an elevator or airplane bathroom queue, should be as curt as possible.

A week ago, I was walking down a hallway, debating whether or not to address the person walking towards me. Clearly, she was thinking the same thing because she hesitantly said, “Hi.” mere steps in front of me. Under pressure, instead of “Hello” I responded with, “How are you?” My question was tardy, we had already physically passed each other in the hallway, I knew it. She answered my question while already behind me and to my horror, returned my belated pleasantries. “Good. How are you?” Shoot! A simple ‘good’ would have sufficed. Now I’m stuck and time is scarce. Should I turn around and politely answer back, or answer very loudly without even turning or should I ignore her question and move quickly on? Well, I chose the latter option, and ducked into my office.

The next time I saw her, neither of us engaged in eye contact, let alone any other form of verbal communication. For the last week, I have focused on avoiding this woman in the hallway. Sometimes I even pretend to be on my cell phone when I walk past her office. I am immature, I know, but I put a lot of time and energy into being this way.

I suppose the point that I should be taking from my own reasoning is this: life’s insipid tea leaves forecast very little, so it is necessary to spice up the bland. I may just add a little more flavour into my next conversation and if I leave a bad taste in the back of your throat, suck it up.
----------------------
*ª I am elitist.