Talking to Strangers

Apparently I have a sign that says "Please Talk To Me" on my forehead that only crazy people can read. Ok some sane strangers approach me for directions now and then, but usually it's just the crazy people.

Yesterday I was head down reading my book Blink (which is really interesting and I recommend if you're interested in the power of your subconscious) on the Max on the way to work(our city's electric train system), when this 50 year old guy interrupts me to ask me what I'm reading. I mean seriously...What is this?

I don't speak. I only show him the cover and he proceeds to talk to me about it. I proceed to try and ignore him politely and read my book. Subsequently, I learned that he had supposedly been in the military and suffered a major brain injury which took a year to heal and required extensive plastic surgery to make him look normal again, as well as receiving a bullet to the gut which rendered him in 9 hours of pelvic surgery, during which he experienced a post death experience and boy was he mad when they brought him back.

These events destroyed his chance at making a career out of the military, which was his dream. He also informed me that 95% of the things we do in our lives are dictated by the compulsive subconscious and his sister is living proof of that because she loves to shop and isn't happy unless she's spending money. This behavior puts her house and family at risk.

Honestly, it sounded like a crazy person in disguise repeating a week of Jerry Springer episodes. And this is when I thought, what's a girl to do? I don't want to be rude, but I really just want to read my book.

No offense to my favorite colleagues who frequent this blog from time to time, but this strange phenomena can be seen at work too. For the most part I think I try very hard to focus on my work and mind my own business. It's not that I don't like other people, it's just that I don't mind doing my own thing. This probably comes from being an only child and having to learn how to get along alone.

Anyway, I share a communal space with three men who are trainers so they are often out teaching class, but at the odd chance they are actually at their desks and it happens to be just me and one of them (I don't leave my desk very often except to go to the Lou or to get snacking) they inevitably sigh and embark in drawing me out in conversation.

Why? I don't know. It's got to be painful for them. They all know I tune out the majority of what they say. I forget to respond at all the right parts and often have no idea what they were talking about when they're finished, which I demonstrate by asking an ill timed totally off track question. And yet they continue to attempt.

I don't get it. It's like the more I resist, the more they want to talk to me.