Stupid Questions With Obvious Answers In Public Places

Many, perhaps almost all, are guilty of it. The automatic, unthinking, muscle memory responses we reply with to strangers in public. The rhetorical “how you doing” or an “good morning/good evening” that might or might not be a lie if the speaker knew the circumstances. Which they do not know. Or care to know. Or want to know. Thus, the disarming, non-committal, socially acceptable bare minimum of the currently convenient colloquialism.

To my shame, I realized I am guilty. I confess. I have sinned. Standing in the elevator of a major hospital as people joined on various floors and came and went, I realized I was partaking in the habit of unmeaning words aimed at fending off strangers.

The man made eye contact, you understand, there was no choice at that point.

“How you doing?” Rolled out of my mouth without any assistance from my brain.

He, having no choice now that the gabbing gauntlet had been thrown down, did what must be done.

“How you doing?” he asked with…what was that in his eyes? Shame. Confusion. Desperate hope of something better but not knowing what that might be?

Now, I wasn’t there when Paul was struck blind on the Damascus Road, or Archimedes’ Eureka, or the apple whacking Newton, but right there I had myself a moment of realization. Integrity demanded, honor required, and my own strained and tired mind forced me to act and correct this situation. Thus, I dropped the social facade and went with honesty, for both our sakes.

I looked him in the eyes and said: “That was a really stupid question for a hospital elevator, wasn’t it?”

The dam of social awkwardness broke. “Yeah it is,” he chuckled.

“Right, because if everything was ok none of us would be in a hospital elevator, would we,” I extrapolated, on a roll in my analysis of truth, life, and all the mysteries of the universe.

“Yeah, man, I don’t know why I do that but you’re right,” my newfound brother of the banter agreed. The ding came and the door opened and it was his floor. “You have a good one…or a better one I should say. And I mean that,” he added with a smile as he exited.

What an idea, folks saying things that you get the small joy of knowing they mean it. Imagine hearing “have a good morning/evening” with the endorphin hit of knowing it was as earnest as an upper midwest hot dish dinner invitation. Ponder, if you will, the societal implications of millions of people saying “have a nice day” or “have a good one” or “have a good ‘en” or even the hoity-toity “good day” said and received with the cognitive confidence of complete candor. Meditate on the bright new world of meaningful meetings and gregarious gab.

A pipedream, perhaps, but a better goal and cause that doesn’t require legislation, social movements, trending attention, or federal grants and studies. Far more relatable than the utopian pointless warbling of that Imagine song, and more attainable than the unicorn promises of infinite everything at no cost to you the grifters are pushing. Just a little change in the most automatic and mindless of daily activities when interacting with a fellow human being for the briefest of moments.

It doesn’t require as much courage and effort as we fool ourselves into thinking. Perhaps a small change to raise the bar on what we consider socially acceptable conversation in public places. Incremental advances on respecting others and each other to give them one thought before speaking instead of mindless unmeaning fodderal. Let us go, mean what we say to our fellow humans, and sin no more.