Thursday, May 14, 2009

I'm not big on social graces


So the new thing that really annoys me is being polite. Specifically, polite conversation...things that you're supposed to say that no one really cares about wanting to say but does anyway. Today I noticed that this woman at my work had on two walking casts. Now, I don't really ever interact with her, she's perfectly pleasant, but honestly she knows I don't care how she hurt herself and she doesn't want to explain it to me. However, when I passed her I asked her how her feet were and she said that they were getting better (from what? how long have they been hurt? guess what!? i don't really care!). As I was rounding the corner I overheard another coworker ask her, verbatim, the same thing I just had and she gave, verbatim, the same answer. So I get that you have to ask it...how bad would I feel if I was limping around all over the place and no one said anything. But, I would really only want people I actually care about talking about it with to ask me. I hate the small-talk kind of polite inquiry.

Last night I took my laundry to my boyfriend's because he has laundry in his building. I spent the night so I brought my duffle bag full of laundry to work (yes I realize that when all is said and done it is actually less convenient than just going to the laundromat, but I am trying to break the addiction). Anyway I have a duffle bag in my office so people keep coming by and then asking me where I'm going. So then I have to explain how and why I have a bag full of my laundry in my office. Uuuugh. But people have to say it...otherwise it's rude to just ignore the fact that I might be going on vacation.
I also hate when I see myself asking small-talk questions and all I can think about is how I don't really care and the person doesn't want to tell me. The other day I rode my bike to work and I had my helmet in my hand while I was waiting for the elevator and another coworker noticed and asked if I had ridden my bike and then asked how far. I scoffed and said, "like two miles"...not like she would have any idea where I live. And then there was this weird silence where it was like I could fill it with some dumb talk about how I don't live too far and it's faster to bike than take the train blah blah blah. And she'll feign interest and then I'll talk more than is necessary, but it would have filled up the elevator time with something other than that pause that ends with an intake of breath like you're going to start talking but then don't. Is that what is called a heavy pause?
That said, when people don't make polite conversation they end up in this blog labeled with Asperger's....so no one can really win I guess.

In other awkward news, the situation with Mute Guy is really getting out of hand. I bought a new bike right after mine got stolen because I needed one right away for the five borough bike tour. So I saw Mute Guy shortly after that and he seemed to be pleased that I had gotten a new bike, and I kept it in the downstairs hall, but locked to itself this time. And then it was going to be rainy for like a week so I went ahead and moved it upstairs, and Mute Guy may or may not have asked me about it and I told him that it was upstairs. THEN I moved it back downstairs. So one day I was going to take it and he came up from his basement and started going on and on and I have no idea what he was talking about. I don't know why he thinks I can understand him and it's getting increasingly unpleasant. I kept saying "I don't understand" and "I'm confused" but I am beginning to think he may also be deaf. As far as I could tell, he may not really trust the people who live in the apartment on the 1st floor...they may have been smoking marijuana...possibly having sex, or looking through the peephole, or he saw them having sex through the peep hole. It may have been an orgy because he seemed to be indicating that he heard people coming and going while he was sleeping. Maybe they are drug dealers? Anyway, the gist seemed to be that I should keep my bike upstairs, even though I have been locking it to itself. So then I spent the next several days being really bitter about Mute Guy telling me to keep my bike upstairs because I live on the third floor and it's a pain in the ass. So finally yesterday I locked it to itself back on the first floor....and if I run into Mute Guy I am going to have some paper handy so he can write down whatever the hell his problem is. And if he was just making polite conversation, I am going to push him down the stairs into his basement.