Pipe Down, Stranger.

I've previously written that my wife calls me The World's Youngest Curmudgeon and she'll probably reach for that nickname again after reading this post. Today's problem is strangers who find it neccessary to make small talk. The barber, the parents waiting in the school parking lot for their kids, the people in the elevator all feel the need to make awkward stabs at filling dead air. Why? Did I unwittingly sign a social compact requiring me to partake in this mindless chitchat? For some, uncomfortable silences are comfortable. I wear uncomfortable silences like a worn, old sweatshirt that feels so soft as it warms me from the autumn chill of unwanted social interaction.

I don't despise small talk because I'm impolite. In fact, I took a long walk through Downtown Annapolis last week and nodded towards, smiled at or said "Good Morning" to nearly everyone I passed. I despise small talk because I don't care where the lady cutting my hair went to high school and it's none of her business what I do for a living. I despise it because I don't know how to answer the question-"What about that Gustav, huh?" (Well, I hope it swells to a Category 5 and drowns thousands. What do you expect me to say sir? Of course I hope it dissipates before becoming even deadlier.) I despise small talk because I am shy and socially awkward and sometimes don't know what to say (sometimes even with family and friends).

For the record, in this post I am talking about passing strangers who I will see for fleeting moments. When introduced to a new group that will require constant interaction, be it work, a new class, etc, I try to be social and have been fortunate to make lifelong friends along the way.

I'm sure that shunning interaction with strangers will lead to me missing out on something. Maybe the barber lady has season tickets to the Washington Caps and is looking to unload some tickets. Maybe one of the dads in the parking lot has a mint condition Hasbro Millenium Falcon and would want to hang out and show me his toy collection. I'll never know. But I'm okay with that because more than likely she'll just say something like "How about this heat?".