I Saw Your Grandma Naked

August 9, 2006

Why is it that when someone shares a horrifically awkward experience or story with you, you then find it necessary to share that same awkward story or situation in turn with whomever will listen to you? If you’re not familiar with this situation, I'm about to give you an excellent opportunity right now.

I have a coworker, let's just call her Rita. Rita mopes about the office complaining about anything and everything that's gone wrong in her life. Rita is allergic to the ventilation in the building so she is the weird lady walking around with the SARS mask on in an outfit that is at best 20 years too young for her to be wearing. When you ask her "how're you doing" she will tell you EVERYTHING that she in fact is and has been doing. For those of us who observe proper office "how're you doing" protocol, the response is similar but not limited to the following: "great", "fine", "good", "awesome", etc. and any other one-word-"I know you’re only asking because I'm in the hallway at the same time as you" type answers. She is in violation of proper office "how're are you doing" etiquette as well as other subsections pertaining to "what's up", "how was your weekend", and "how's life" forthwith.

I will now share with you an almost verbatim answer she gave to the Program Manager for approximately 15 of the most awkward minutes I've ever experienced. First, I'd like to repeat for those of you who weren't paying attention, this was the Program Manager. It doesn't go up any higher than him in this office. He can fire you, he tells you what to do and you do it, nuff said? You’re right. He is a very nice man and will come up to you with a big smile on his face and ask you "how're you doing" and actually mean it and stop and listen to your response. He made the mistake of asking this to Rita one Monday morning and this was her reply:
"...Oh, this weekend was my son's graduation. His father didn't come but at least he sent him $50. His grandparents gave him $100 and my brother gave him $25. My niece just gave birth this weekend too. She originally was just going to join the military but ended up getting pregnant right before she would have left so she couldn't go, she just finished high school. When she was in labor the doctors discovered that the baby's head was going to be too big for her pelvis but they had her push anyway. When the baby's head started to crown her pelvis started to snap so the doctors started to shove the baby back in..."

It was at this time I decided I could stomach no more and literally walked away from her in mid-sentence. My poor boss however just stayed there in sheer horror and continued his sympathetic "for-the-love-of-all-that’s-pure-and-holy why did I ask this crazy woman how her weekend was" look and nods until finally I think Jesus himself intervened out of pity and Rita was somehow distracted by a shiny object so my boss could make his escape. Ever since then, no one on the top floor has ever asked her how her day or weekend was and I'm almost positive no one ever will.

Another example? I thought you’d never ask!

So I'm walking through the mall minding my own business replenishing what had been a diminishing supply of eyeliner. I had completed my purchase and started walking out of the store and back to work. A relatively familiar voice bellowed out an unmistakably questioning "Haley?" I turned around and there before me was a person I'd once worked with but hadn't seen in probably three or four years. This girl was for all intents and purposes very normal. She always had a bright smile and a sweet disposition so I didn't see this one coming at all. She was taking some time off teaching and was working behind a make up counter at a prestigious retailer here in Oregon. When we began to converse I immediately asked "how have you been" (a slight variation to the "how're you doing" protocol listed above), to which she answered:
"...Oh I've been doing okay. I just miscarried and my husband and I are getting through it one day at a time..."

I couldn't help but feel sorry for her and come up with the scripted and rehearsed "Oh, I'm so sorry" with the sympathetic head tilt to the left. She graciously accepted my condolences and we continued to stand there in awkward silence for approximately five seconds further which in "awkward silence time" is approximately a day and a half.

Does anyone even know what to say to that? Where do you go after the miscarriage bomb is dropped? I would have LIKED to go right under a table somewhere and hide in the fetal position until it was all over.

This breach of protocol must end! I'm not good at awkward silence, heck, ask my boyfriend - I'm not good at ANY silence. So next time you think I or anyone else want to hear about your niece's baby who needed to be pushed back in to the birthing canal, your son who graduated's dead-beat dad, or any form of car accident, blunt force trauma to the head, "Oh he'll be able to walk again but only in circles" stories I want you to remember that you’re in breach of proper one-word-answer protocol and will need to immediately go home and hit yourself repeatedly in the face with a kitchen utensil until you realize what a horrible idea that was... but don't tell anyone about it, that'd probably make them a little uncomfortable.