Owlspotting

I had coffee with a friend today and we somehow ended up talking about akward social moments. She mentioned being in elevators with strangers and all those seconds that seem to strech forever before the doors open and you can return to your personal space. I realized during our chat that many of the social moments I was aprehensive of have returned since I’ve been back.

In the US I felt fine in elevators and it was mostly a seamless transaction in stores, bars and restaurants. I do cringe at the overzealous clerks that chase me around the mall trying to find out what I want (especially those working in shoe stores!), but hey, at least you can call that good customer service.

I like to jest that in Romania waiters are mean. Often times they make me feel like I’m intruding on their well deserved break because they lazily drag their bodies to the table looking stone-faced and acting rude. Interacting with customer service reps in Romania is something I don’t very much look forward to. The category is broad and it includes waiters, public service workers (brrrrr) and cab drivers. Yes, I get along perfectly fine with most journalists although some do piss me off and I’m not very subtle when it comes to showing I’m displeased.

One of the moments I always dreaded–not sure where this comes from–is being on a train with someone who is eating a bag of chips or crackers or something of which there are many. What I always hope won’t happen is that the person won’t offer me food. I have no reason to believe strangers want to feed me, but the possibility that they could is not something I want to see happen. Because if it does, we’ll have formed a bond. And then what?