Death by Conversations…This is Part One of a micro-trilogy dealing with creative and decorous methods of escaping conversation with boring and socially inept persons.
These people are everywhere…maybe you are one. They are found at every social or public gathering. Often you have found yourself faced with the question, “How do I escape this insipid person?” Here are some novel methods.
The Seated Dinner Party
A very touchy and difficult situation. Pre-planning is warranted. Stealthily scan in advance the place cards of guests at your table. Without notice, switch them to reposition yourself, or punish a friend.
If your place-card ploy fails, use the “cold shoulder” approach. On your right is a pontificator of personal health problems. On your left, a deaf-mute, with bad table manners. You have two options: First, you can allow as how you don’t like the entrée, and pull out your brightly-wrapped tin of King Oscar sardines. Often you don’t even have to open it, for you will be given the cold shoulder by both. If pressured, go ahead and pop the top. Great respect follows this act!
Perhaps you find one of the two mildly interesting…then turn the “cold shoulder” to the other. The ignored one will persecute another guest…not your problem.
Bodily removal from the table is not easy. It takes special inventiveness. Aside from the usual crudities, like, “It must be the wine…Excuse me.” Or, “I must have swallowed a bone—I’ll be back if I live.” In either case, it will solve the problem and your prolonged absence will add drama to the table. No? Then try this approach: Pull your cell phone out, study it, and loudly exclaim, “Oops, trouble with the kids (or dogs),” and hurry from the table. This leaves the door open to return, or not.
The Cocktail Party
You’ve been accosted by one with respiration de saumon, or respiration de vin. You know these folks: Mr. Fish Breath and Mrs. Wine Exhaler. These people like to invade your spatial comfort zone, mingling words with their malodorous mists. Escape seems impossible. Try this: Look into the crowd, raise your hand and wave wildly, while exclaiming, “Oh, Hi, be right over,” whereupon you utter a terse “Excuse me” as you slip the noose and disappear into the throng. Says Martha Ellis, the island doyenne, “it works every time.”
So you’ve found yourself in a crowd of men, who are discussing golf, fishing or other inane subjects. Take your drink glass, remark indignantly, “Is it you or just me that got the rot-gut liquor?” Or, with more class, look at your glass with a grimace, and announce, “I must have grabbed someone else’s drink,” and depart slowly, never to return until the conversation reverts to the Sports Illustrated issue with abundant photographs of beach scenery.
My wife’s favorite quick-escape route is to quickly interject in a conversation lull, “Interesting…hold that thought, I’ll be right back,” praying another Unfortunate will happen by and lend an attentive ear.
Sometimes it’s easier to escape if you’re with a spouse or friend. Lauren, a very cute friend, told me that before going into the party, she and a friend would have “code words or actions” that translate, “Quick, find the door!” Never fails, she boasts.
My preference? The “High-five” approach. As you enter, pan the room and see who and where The Dullards are. You can dodge them, of course, but social manners demand that you at least attempt to acknowledge their presence. So, you hustle by, perhaps even bumping them with your elbow. Give them the old “high-five” salute or perfunctory pat their shoulder as you rush past. It’ll solve a world of unnecessary grief, and they’ll never suspect your insincerity.
The evening’s over, and it’s time to leave. Goodbyes must be said to the host/hostess, and the quickest way out of the door is to break in line to someone who’s saying their farewells, kiss the hostess, pat the host’s arm and depart quickly. They will hardly know you’re gone, and will probably be relieved at your departure.
Many more allusive maneuvers exist. Practice these until you have them down perfectly. It will assure future invitations.
A manual of these creative solutions is being prepared, and I would be grateful for your input and suggestions of the “artful exits” you’ve used. Simply respond to this Absurdity. There will be a prize to the most creative of the replies, perhaps a banquet or some other recognition.
Meanwhile, avoid at all costs the salmon and spinach at gatherings…you know what I mean!!
Bud Hearn
February 12, 2009
No comments:
Post a Comment