Everyone’s so different but oddly the same. So human yet subconsciously robotic. I didn’t realize this until I was thrown behind a salon chair after 8 weeks of working on non-breathing and mute mannequin heads. It always starts the same no matter who sits down, no matter what they look like or what I assume about them. We say our hi’s, hellos, and how are you’s. They sit down and I swivel them to face the mirror so they can see my face and the state of their hair. We discuss little things like how they like it currently, what they’re looking for, and then after all of this the rest is improv. Little comments like ‘it’s been raining lately’ or ‘what color are you wearing on your lips today?’ Nothing of deep or total meaning just small words of encouragement that have a low rate of turning into an actual conversation. What are the odds we talk about their love life? What are the odds they ask me where I’m from? What are the odds I actually get to know them?
I catch myself thinking the most when it comes time to start the blow-dry. It’s eerily silent except for the white noise blowing hot and the occasional squeak of my shoes. I feel the least amount of pressure in this state, like something dropped from my shoulders. It’s too loud to keep a normal volumed chit chat but soft enough to not be annoying or upset them. I often ponder what they’re thinking about in this moment. Do they like me enough to come back? Are they texting a friend? Did they get bad news? Am I the first person they’ve talked to today? What are they going through? Then it’s all over and now it’s back to the politeness of it all. Card swipes followed by thank yous and your welcomes and you’re welcome back any times. When they leave, I sit. I take in the peace of the mess I’ve created within my work space. The smell of the hair products that were just infused into their strands. The ice water I chug too fast and gives me a stomach ache. I still don’t learn. My boss comes in and complains about the little color spots on the floor that I left behind. I like to call them freckles, he didn’t find that amusing until 5 minutes later.
I spend the rest of my working hours going back and froth from the cafe next door. It’s all smiles and more waves than I can count. Not the usual waves where it’s once and done but the ones where you jump enthusiastically and it seems to go on forever. The baristas know me by name and they often ask if I’m having the usual. I remember working in a diner and wondering how it would feel to have the usual like my regulars. Now I’m one of those people. It consists of a shot of espresso, a whole lot of nonfat milk, and some vanilla syrup. They always ask me if I want non-dairy milk and I politely decline due to the one day I got courageous and swapped it out for almond milk. I only drank half. My drink is also known as your basic iced vanilla latte except it’s made with a little extra love and on the really good days, it comes without a price tag. Sometimes I’ll switch up and order a coke instead, you have to keep people on their toes sometimes. Besides that, the only thing I’ve ever asked for is a large cup of ice which I pour their filtered water into. They’re used to me and I’m used to them and I find a familiar comfort in that.
Then there’s Trader Joe’s. I frequent there while also reminding myself that I can’t fall into the LA thing to do being go vegan. God forbid, I think I love chicken too much and protein keeps me alive most of the time when I accidentally skip a meal or two. I know exactly where to go and what to pick up, funny how that happens. I remember walking in for the first time and not knowing where to look. There’s much less of a selection but there also seems to be 10x more people in the vicinity than I’m comfortable with. So naturally I memorized the best times to go where I’ll be mostly by myself until I reach the cash register. They always ask a lot of questions and I always answer them while waiting for my gluten free double chocolate muffins to be rung up. Not the usual things like ‘how’d you find everything’ but more like things I would maybe ask a good friend. I’ve had funny conversations about this place but secretly I love it. If you were to ask me on a deeper level, I’d say that that’s one of the only places I feel like I truly know what I’m doing in. It’s practically my second home at this point. There’s always the dreaded walk home though. Not even half a mile but it sure does feel like it. No one smiles at anyone here. Maybe if you say hello to their dog first they’ll give you a little head nod but other than that, we all tend to be in our own little worlds at all times.
I strolled a casual mile from the store where licensed cosmetologists go all the way to work this morning. Not a good idea when I had a big color service ahead of me and hadn’t had any caffeine or breakfast yet. I could’ve Ubered but my bank account was already on its last breath. Here I am breaking a sweat two minutes in with my platforms rubbing uncomfortably against my heel. The sun is blaring and the wind only comes once in a while. I’m grateful that it does at all. Why did I wear jeans today? It’s better than the alternative short skirt I adorn once a week, that would’ve been hell. Part of me wants to give up even though I see the sign to the last street I have to turn onto. I want to sit in the shade and die a peaceful and dramatic death while the onlookers wonder what I’m doing. I have a huge work purse that wouldn’t be my normal go-to for this occasion and I think back to the morning where I almost chose a smaller tote. That would’ve been better. Regardless I made it even though my heart rate spiked at a staggering 180 and I looked like my face was about to fall off. I made it only to realize that I forgot the damn towels. Story of my life. At least the ladies I was about to see again were quite nice. They always ask me what I’m working on that day.
Maybe these small interactions are better in their own ways. We dodge the difficulties and head straight for the conversational impracticalities. Sometimes I feel like I text people I know too formally. Sometimes I feel like I shouldn’t be casual people when it’s work related or life related or advice related or anything related. For instance, I caught myself saying ‘all the better’ and almost gagged ceremoniously as I sent it. Aw, she used big girl words. Then I was met with a ‘k’ and the impending doom of modern society broke my writer walls down real quick. I’ll take that over a cheesy poem of love any day though. I like simplicity, I thrive in it. Small talk, I’m trained for that. Big talk, that’s where I struggle. I’ll dance around the hugs and I miss you’s and the i’m sorry’s and embrace the how’s the weather and where’d you get that.
There's too much judgment about small talk. It's how we connect. I've learned more about strangers asking them about the weather or what they're up to than by having "deeper" conversations with people I know better. Here's to learning more and connecting more with everyone around us.
sometimes small talking is the consideration to live as a society, your worries resonate with my usual internals thoughts, thank u for thinking and writing it out