Smalltalk

by Phyllis

I am not a fan (although I expect it will be suggested to me soon).

I don't like to make it. I don't like to participate in it. That is not to say I haven't done it--just that I have always hated it. I know it sounds negative (in a good way) to say it, but I don't really like talking to people in the first place. Well, actually, the part I don't like is listening. I can talk to you all day if you like, and will act like I am listening (not an oscar-worthy performance, I must admit), but I don't really want to hear what most people have to say.

[I wonder if someone will steal my idea for a T-shirt that says "Pretend I have my earbuds in." Great idea, right?]

So for someone who doesn't like to talk to people, smalltalk is nearly insufferable. And I had three whoppers laid on me recently and I nearly lost my cool each time.

#1 - Walking through the empty halls during classtime at one of the elementary schools I work at, I see a remotely familiar person (I have worked at this school several years now) coming my direction. I make no eye contact but soon hear her say, "You working on those computers?" "Yep," I say. Not a lot of thought went into that one, though, ma'am, I think to myself. But I realize I prefer it that way. Nowhere really to take the "conversation" and it ends there as we pass each other.

#2 - This time I am working at our district's alternative High School (you figure out what that means) removing spyware some genius has installed on his PC. (Yes, I am an IT snob.) I leave the room for a minute to go check on something else, and when I return, two students are in there working with the librarian on a paper. I seat myself at the PC again and continue working on it. After nearly five minutes, the librarian offers, "So, you're in here with us?" I scarcely know how to respond to such a question without laughing hysterically, so I compose myself for a few seconds and come back with "I'm just working on the computer." End of conversation again.

#3 - The good fellers who came and installed the fence in my backyard recently had plenty to say. My favorite had to be when one had returned from retrieving a tool from his truck ("Yeah, the bed's a little high for me but hell no I wouldn't put a lift gate on it. I'd love to lower it, though.") and gave me this gem: "Hey, man, that blonde neighbor of yours?" He tailed off as he grinned and gave me a look I can only describe as disgustingly lecherous.

Admittedly, I didn't know how to respond to this, so I gave him the best conversation stopper I could think of. "Hmmph."

It didn't work.