The book I just finished for my tourism class was a
collection of vignettes. Perhaps
it inspired me, because the following is what I came up with for my post today.
Friday. I don’t
what it was, but my appearance must have stated “If you’ve never met me, please
start a conversation with me.” All
day, it seemed, random people felt the need to speak to me.
It started with “verbal hello kid” outside the SWKT. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday
there is a boy who, rather than quietly smiling or nodding (like most people
do) when we make eye contact as he leaves and I approach the SWKT, offers a
robust “Hello!” It always catches me
off guard, as I don’t remember what he looks like. It also seems I’m the only passerby he shouts hello at. So instead of responding with a
weirded-out “hi,” all I usually manage is a polite grimace. Yesterday was no different.
After that brief exchange, I went into the break room on the
main level of the SWKT to get something to drink from the vending machines. I watched a girl with dark hair in a
braid unsuccessfully try to procure a tuna-fish sandwich for her lunch. At the machine
next to me a boy perused the frozen food offerings. I turned my focus to the bottles of soda in front of me, and
selected a flavor.
“Hey do you want to know why this day keeps getting better?”
After a pause in which no one answered, I turned around, aware
that I must be the intended recipient for this remark.
“Hmmm?”
The asker was standing with one leg up on a chair and his
backpack open on the table while he fished for his wallet. “Well, first I discover there are vending
machines in this building,” he excitedly pointed out, temporarily halting his
wallet search to grandly gesture about the room, ”and then I see they have
DONUTS!” He triumphantly finished his search, and raised an arm in the air
clutching his wallet. “Did you know that?“
Obviously, as I am in
here buying a drink. Instead,
I just smiled and continued to converse awkwardly until the second the machine
vended my drink, spit out my change, and I could make a beeline for the door.
Shaking my head over the encounter, I walked to the
elevators and pushed the up arrow.
“Hi. What floor is the poli-sci department?”
Turning to the voice beside me I responded, “Um, I’m not
sure… maybe 9?” The elevator
arrived and I got in.
“I’ll just go look…” he stole a glance at the directory. “It’s on 7.”
I then pushed both the buttons for floor 6 (my destination)
and floor 7, silently responding to his murmured thanks with a nod. After too long a pause to continue a
conversation without it being awkward, the boy chose to lead with: “So what’s
on the 6th floor? Nursing?”
(This, my friends, is an example of gender-based
stereotyping. Knowing the SWKT is
home to the nursing school, a giant banner fixed to the front of the building with
the words “BYU—College of Nursing—60 years“ declares it so, and seeing that I
was a girl, he automatically assumed I was a nurse. See? Profiling.)
“It’s the geography department,” I replied.
He responded the way most people do when I mention what I
study. A smile, a nod, a look
feigning interest, and drawn out “ooooooh…” while their brains are silently
scrambling for some type of intelligent response. Geography. Oh, she looks at rocks. No, wait, that’s not it. Maps. Bingo! And then they usually blurt out something like, “So you
must know where all the countries are!”
I do appreciate the effort. I do. Yesterday, however, I was
feeling especially kind or perhaps just didn’t want to admit that I
occasionally confuse Lesotho with Swaziland (They are both enclaves in South
Africa), but I stopped him mid-“ooooooh” and said, “I bet I’m the first
geography major you’ve ever met.” He
then smiled, as the elevator doors dinged opened onto floor six, and started to
say something that sounded like, “yep, but I really like the chalkboard you
guys have!”
At which point I looked around for the chalkboard he was
referring to, while simultaneously realizing I must have misheard him and my
failure to respond to his expectant-looking face inside the elevator could be
deemed rude. But then the elevator
doors shut and I was saved a response.
That’s all I have. Thanks for reading. I promise I won’t become a novelist and make you endure more elevator
conversations.
xoxo!
He should have asked you what you thought of sat nav devices and whether they would make maps obsolete. I've never needed either in my part of the world. When I get lost, I just ask a parrot for directions.
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