My Series of Unfortunate Events: The awkward encounter
Recently I ran into an old friend
from high school during my weekly
grocery run. Let's call this
friend "Karen." Karen was one of
those people who sat three rows
back from you in science class, and
who was always in front of you in
the line for the cafeteria's weekly
special. She was that person who
you were always friendly with but
who never managed to get the invitation
to your birthday parties.
So naturally when I saw her in
the frozen food section, I tried to
get away with the old nod and
smile. Unsurprisingly, that trick
didn't work, and Karen and I got to
talking.
While my old classmate was busy telling me about her dysfunctional family, I started thinking about how the conversation would end. I was patiently waiting for that moment of silence to loom over us so I could come up with an excuse to leave. I knew when the 10-minute mark had passed that I needed to find a way out. It was now or never. The microwaveable dinners in my grocery cart were begging to be put in the freezer. Every now and then I would attempt to slip in a "well..." but that only probed another life story out of Karen. Don't get me wrong, I was fascinated by the gifts she received for her 20th birthday, and the good report at her latest dentist visit.
Finally, Karen paused to look at her phone. I saw opportunity knocking on my door and I went for it. She looked at me rather regrettably as I spat out my poor excuse, but I was free! I left the grocery store skipping and whistling.
This meeting with Karen got me thinking, what is the protocol when it comes to getting out of a conversation? Granted, it depends who you're speaking with, but I'm talking about all of the Karens in our lives. I think a simple "I have to run, it was nice seeing you" will allow you to walk away unscathed, but I will not be held responsible if it doesn't work and you end up exchanging phone numbers with Louis from grade 10 gym class.
Let's all do each other a giant favour. Why don't we keep grocery store/exercise class/shopping mall encounters to a maximum of seven minutes. It's the perfect amount of time to divulge all necessary information while not wasting too much of someone's day. Unless, of course, Louis from grade 10 gym class ends up looking like Ryan Gosling.
Jenna Want passes on some valuable advice each week in My Series of Unfortunate Events. If you've got a question for her, email her at j_want2@fanshaweonline.ca.
While my old classmate was busy telling me about her dysfunctional family, I started thinking about how the conversation would end. I was patiently waiting for that moment of silence to loom over us so I could come up with an excuse to leave. I knew when the 10-minute mark had passed that I needed to find a way out. It was now or never. The microwaveable dinners in my grocery cart were begging to be put in the freezer. Every now and then I would attempt to slip in a "well..." but that only probed another life story out of Karen. Don't get me wrong, I was fascinated by the gifts she received for her 20th birthday, and the good report at her latest dentist visit.
Finally, Karen paused to look at her phone. I saw opportunity knocking on my door and I went for it. She looked at me rather regrettably as I spat out my poor excuse, but I was free! I left the grocery store skipping and whistling.
This meeting with Karen got me thinking, what is the protocol when it comes to getting out of a conversation? Granted, it depends who you're speaking with, but I'm talking about all of the Karens in our lives. I think a simple "I have to run, it was nice seeing you" will allow you to walk away unscathed, but I will not be held responsible if it doesn't work and you end up exchanging phone numbers with Louis from grade 10 gym class.
Let's all do each other a giant favour. Why don't we keep grocery store/exercise class/shopping mall encounters to a maximum of seven minutes. It's the perfect amount of time to divulge all necessary information while not wasting too much of someone's day. Unless, of course, Louis from grade 10 gym class ends up looking like Ryan Gosling.
Jenna Want passes on some valuable advice each week in My Series of Unfortunate Events. If you've got a question for her, email her at j_want2@fanshaweonline.ca.
