I like to pretend that I’m good at small talk. That I can play the extrovert and chit chat. Truth? I hate, hate, hate small talk. I don’t know what to say. Things get awkward. I end up looking like a fool. Or at least feeling like one. Then, for a week or more after the exchange, my neurotic self rehashes every single word, agonizing over how very icky the small talk went.
For instance, when someone asks how I am, I struggle to answer. No, really. That’s a very difficult question for someone like me. Do I say that I’m “good” and risk offending the Grammar Police? Do I say that I’m “well” and risk seeming snooty? If I’m having a crappy day, do I over-share that information? Do I talk about all the cool stuff that’s going on (because I really do have a lot of cool stuff going on) and risk being braggy?
Neurotic triggers flashing, I usually answer the “How are you” by default.
I say, “Good. Busy.”
I am not kidding. Even if that day was full of nothing but eating chips and watching Netflix (which never happens…no…never), I still say, “Good. Busy.”
What the hee haw.
I’m not busy. I mean, I’ve got projects for days and kids who need snuggles and food and a husband who needs adoring…but I’m not busy.
The dude that drives 90 on the highway while texting and on a conference call is probably busier than I am. The mom with a couple toddlers is busier (I know because I was her for awhile). You reading this right now – yeah, you – I bet you’re way busier than I am.
So why do I say that I’m busy? Because I think that’s what’s expected.
But it’s not always a good answer…unless of course I’m in a big rush, then it’s not as offensive as saying, “I don’t have time to talk to you!”.
Can I just tell you how I am? From the safety of my little desk on the other side of the internet.
It won’t always be that way. I’ll have moments and days when happy isn’t the right word. But, that’s how I am right this very moment.
So. How are you today?