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There was an abattoir in the lane behind the house where I grew up. We local kids were convinced that one of the men who worked there—who looked uncannily like Vincent Price and hauled carcasses to waiting vans—would kill us and bury us out back. We called him “the man who’ll put you in the black hole.” Whenever he stepped onto the street, splattered head-to-toe in blood, we’d scatter in all directions, screaming.
Which, of course, has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that in the company of strangers, say, in a waiting room or a lift, I simply cannot endure awkward silence. I feel compelled to break it with some clever quip or bon mot. It’s not that I keep a repertoire of witty lines; it’s just that discomfort makes me blurt the first thing that pops into my mind which, naturally, is always witty.
No doubt you’ll recall my post about the visit to the vet when I walked into a packed, silent waiting room carrying my chicken in a cardboard box. Heads lifted from screens, curious. I swept into the centre of the room and announced, “Ladies, gentlemen, and those as yet undecided, may I present my wry-neck chicken,” after which I bowed theatrically and took a seat. Someone clapped making everyone laugh and soon people were chatting. The vet even knocked €50 off the bill...presumably for my services as impromptu entertainer.
Now that’s what I call a day out.
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These days, though, my sparkling repartee often falls on deaf ears, as everyone is permanently plugged into some noise-spewing device. My brilliance, wasted on the wilfully distracted. Still, I persist. I’d rather talk to myself than agonise in the silence.
However, should you feel tempted to try my ice-breaking techniques, dear reader, do be warned, one-to-one situations are another matter entirely. Sit me beside a stranger on a bus or a plane and I will do everything humanly possible to avoid conversation. I mean, there’s no escape if they turn out to be a bore, and let’s be honest, most are. In that scenario, silence is infinitely preferable to hours of twaddle about football or reality TV.
And so, for the intellectually vulnerable among you, I have devised a helpful mnemonic to remember my methods:
In a crowd, make it loud. One-to-one, keep shtum.
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Posted in response to galenkp's weekend experience
prompt asking: Awkward silence, or talking too much...do you do one or the other and weirdest thing you believed was true when you were a child?
The images are random, taken on Dublin streets, and do not necessarily reflect my opinions.
I think I'd love to be sitting next to you on a plane. You would hold forth on many wondrous things (your photographs here, for instance), and I would listen enraptured. I promise to bring a nice long hardcopy book and give you silence on my end when you need to take a break from spouting your brilliant repartee. Maybe on a long trip to Puerta Vallarta in February?
Hahaha, I'd keep shtum and let you do all the talking.
We're doing our utmost to get to Puerta Vallarta. I've even agreed to allow the dreaded brother-in-law move in to mind the animals for 3 weeks. One day I'll tell you that story. It's one that's definitely not for public consumption.
I'm considering going. I hate travel and have never travelled far. Or alone. Love my pleasant mornings and breakfasts far too much. I've solved my biggest problem though - one of my daughters will take my dog while I'm gone. She's hard to board, minimally jabbed and unspayed and epicurean and all. Your being there would be a big plus. Please let me know...
I'd love to hear the brother in law story. And you'll be going for three weeks? I'm looking at a mere one week.
We want to go for a few months but the brother in law can get only 3 weeks holidays, so 3 weeks it is. We have the same non jabbed, non tagged problem with our dogs.
I'll let you know as soon as we book. It'd be brilliant if you could manage to come. It'd be like that Simpsons episode where online pals meet in person when the internet goes down and can find nothing to say to each other:)
oh I hope not! Although I may be dumbfounded in your actual presence. Oh god I'm going to get on a plane and travel to another country?! Forgive me if I chicken out at the last minute. I chickened out on a trip to Florida recently. I hate Florida. Loathed every single place I ever visited there. Awful. Even the weather sucked.
😄
No pressure at all. It'll be fantastic if it happens, if it doesn't no harm. I hate travelling myself, but I also hate not travelling:)
Where did you get this word shtum? I thought it sounded yiddish-y so I looked it up and yes indeed it is.
My father used it a lot so it's always been in my vocabulary.
It's a curse! I hate talking to people. Really, I do. I don't hate people, but it's a strain keeping up a conversation. And yet, as my husband notes in frustration, as soon as I'm next to someone--a grocery clerk, anyone--I make conversation. It's nerves. I'm exhausted when it's over and try never to meet that person again because of the implied familiarity that exists.
It's an irony that I give the impression of being sociable. In actuality, I'm a recluse :))) I've compared myself to Boo Radley (To Kill a Mockingbird).
Once again a great blog, and there you have me 'talking'. But online it's OK.
😆 That's gas. We're two of a kind. People think I’m outgoing, but really I’m full of angst. I clown around to keep people from spotting the anxiety.
And thanks for the reblog:)
Have you ever tried creating an uncomfortable silence to test someone? And when they stutter some stupid salad of words to make it less awkward, you just stare at them in disgust? It's a mighty elevating feeling. I heard. Never tried it, of course, I'm no sadist. Just kidding, surely I did it, with great joy. I refrain from it now that I have felt the power it withholds, to be saved for another day, savored in drops, to not numb the satisfaction by greedily gorging the pleasure. That control over instinct, is that not what keeps me human?
No, I haven't. My mind just doesn't work that way. You're horrid!:)
I know. I'm ashamed of myself.
The scene with the chicken must have been great, but you have all my respect for bringing the chicken to the vet, 99,9% of the people would just let it die (or straight kill and eat)
I once found an injured pigeon on the street and brought it to the vet....who laughed me out the door.
Lol yea that's pretty uncommon
#hive #posh
It is absolutely true that all the people here like to eat chicken. Most people in our city and our country like chicken and do not like big meat. But we have to take care of some things, first we slaughter the chicken properly and then only after that so that it does not suffer too much, no worries, no pain.