The Curious Columnist
We’ve all been there. For whatever reason, we find ourselves in the throes of a networking event. Unfortunately for many of us, we don’t care for the game of networking. Maybe we’re not in the mood to make small talk. Maybe the ability to properly respond to countless iPhone beach photos escapes us. Maybe we resent the air of pretense that tends to abound at shindigs such as these.
Regardless, we tend to go through the motions because that’s exactly what we’re supposed to do. We answer all the same questions in the same way, and when it’s our turn to do the asking, we keep playing the grownup version of follow-the-leader.
Our issue is not with our fellow well-intentioned guests. We don’t lack a desire to learn about them. And we’re not going in with a bad attitude. Our beef is with the societal expectation to engage in inauthenticity, to not exactly be ourselves, and to express what we assume others hope to hear.
We may smile and nod politely, but our thoughts are often elsewhere. I tend to engage in an inner dialogue, dreaming up intriguing inquiries I’d much rather kick around: “What is the greatest life lesson you’ve ever learned?” “What did you really want to be when you grew up?” “What’s the question you wish someone would ask you?”
As the standard conversations begin to pile up, I frequently hit the mental replay button on an apropos scene from 1953’s Broadway production of Wonderful Town, starring Rosalind Russell. (If you’re thinking that I wasn’t alive in 1953, you are correct…What can I say? I’ve seen every Roz Russell clip known to man.)
In the standout number, Conga, Russell’s character attempts to interview a squad of Brazilian naval cadets who barely speak English, and desperately want her to teach them to dance the conga. The resulting interplay features Russell spouting out eccentric, rapid-fire, strangely revelatory questions, all the while inadvertently “Conga-ing” with the sailors.
Russell sings, “What do you think of our rhythm bands? Monkey glands? Hot dog stands? What do you think of Stokowski’s hands?” “What do you think of our double malts? Family vaults? Epsom salts? How would you guys like to learn to Waltz?”
Obviously if we were to serve up these specific Q and A’s at our next event, the consensus would probably be that we require professional help pronto. (Granted, neither double malts, nor Stokowski are all that popular these days and few of us possess monkey gland expertise.) However, isn’t the idea of making like Russell and employing out-of-the-ordinary topics way more compelling than delivering customary lines for the millionth time?
On one hand, we can continue to devote our social bandwidth to gabbing about professional achievements, ad nauseum. On the other hand, we can bond over hot dog topping preferences and haunted family vaults. Which banter sounds more enjoyable? And which option is most likely to spark genuine human connection?
We won’t actually know anyone from a verbal rendition of their resume. Instead, posing unexpected, even outwardly random queries catches people off guard in the best way, invariably inspiring them to quickly drop their guard. So, why do we fall into the trap of kibbitzing about the conventional when there are countless captivating subjects with which to powwow?
I have a theory about meet-and-greet behavior…we morph into robots. It’s as though some humdrum mastermind is at the controls, directing us to follow protocol. When our mechanized walls go up, our true selves are obscured, and we promptly forget our innate curiosity.
In a seemingly misguided bid for fleeting social acceptance, we often ask inconsequential questions that we ourselves find yawn-worthy. But do we honestly care if our watered-down, robotic stand-ins gain that acceptance? I don’t think so. Now, let’s talk hot dog stands…
Jennifer Silverman has served as a celebrity wardrobe stylist for hundreds of TV personalities and professional athletes. A few of her favorite projects include the Olympic Games and the Oscars. Silverman and her Westie, Petunia, relocated from Manhattan to Amelia Island in 2019. She launched her popular newspaper column, The Curious Columnist in 2022. Additional quirky commentary penned by Silverman is available by visiting www.CuriousColumnist.com. Email her at Jennifer@CuriousColumnist.com
