I still harbor painful recollections of being tongue-tied when confronted by naked job flashers. Like the time a fellow at a dinner party told me, “I’m a nuclear scientist.” My weak “Oh, that must be fascinating” reduced me to a mental molecule in his eyes.
The chap on my other side announced, “I’m in industrial abrasives,” and then paused, waiting for me to be impressed. My “Well, er, golly, you must have to be a shrewd judge of character to be in industrial abrasives” didn’t fly either. We three sat in silence the rest of the meal.
Just last month a new acquaintance bragged, “I’m planning to teach Tibetan Buddhism at Truckee Meadows Community College,” and then clammed up. I knew less about Truckee Meadows than I did about Tibetan Buddhism. Whenever people ask you what you do, give them some mouth-to-ear resuscitation so they can catch their breath and say something.
The chap on my other side announced, “I’m in industrial abrasives,” and then paused, waiting for me to be impressed. My “Well, er, golly, you must have to be a shrewd judge of character to be in industrial abrasives” didn’t fly either. We three sat in silence the rest of the meal.
Just last month a new acquaintance bragged, “I’m planning to teach Tibetan Buddhism at Truckee Meadows Community College,” and then clammed up. I knew less about Truckee Meadows than I did about Tibetan Buddhism. Whenever people ask you what you do, give them some mouth-to-ear resuscitation so they can catch their breath and say something.
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