And this one time ….
It’s easy to hate people who do not let you get a word in edgewise. Don’t get me wrong, its not that I like talking about myself. However, every once in awhile I prefer to steer a conversation towards matters more pressing than haircuts, favourite sandwich fillings, white sugar v. brown sugar etc.
People often mistake me for being shy, if not downright rude when it comes to socialising. Nothing could be further from the truth. The simple fact of the matter is that I am not one for idle banter. Neither am I at the opposite end mind you. For example, was I to meet someone at a party my conversational starting point would not be neo-conservative politics in the US or the impact of colonial literature in post-apartheid South Africa. Rather, there has to be a middle ground between idle chit chat and ‘me-so-smart-and-sophisticamated’ ramblings.
On more than one occasion now, I have found myself a social function talking to some woman about her hairstyle, clothing, dietary requirements and favourite shampoo. This statement is not meant to cast aspersions towards women nor make a gross generalisation of the supposed conversational skills of the female of the species. Rather, it’s an observation of how reluctant some people can be to move away from their purported ‘comfort zone’ when meeting with a stranger. Social conventions seem to dictate that the conversation must be light-hearted, highly impersonal unless you’re discussing grooming habits, devoid of ‘religion and politics’, incapable of drawing out opinion on contentious or topical issues.
Of course, there are certain social scenes in which the abovementioned convention is done away with almost in its entirety. Legal Practitioner Parties (LPPs) are one such example. In that situation, the aim of any conversation is to prove that your intellectual penis extends far beyond that of the person with whom you’re conversing. The discussion can become exceptionally personal, as you are quizzed on your secondary schooling (public or private), tertiary entrance rank, undergraduate and postgraduate studies (honours, masters, doctorate), employer (top tier, mid tier, suburban practice, in-house, public service), income (yes, nothing is sacred) etc. Once answered, these very same questions are then asked again, but this time directed to your partner (assuming you are in a relationship).
The above behaviour is best described by some as either ‘wankerism’ or ‘big dickedness’. It can be readily observed in most upmarket watering holes around Sydney, specifically those in and around Circular Quay (a lawyer hotspot). Although entertaining to watch, the situation is markedly different should you find yourself inadvertently becoming a participant. You see, one object of social wankerism is to subtly insult your companions, such that they do not immediately realise the slight against their name. This particular aspect of a wankerist’s social interaction can take years to refine and develop, and further requires an intimate understanding of their friends’ weaknesses.
In seeking to counter a wankerist, the best approach is to simply ignore the person. A wankerist will take great offence at being ignored, as acknowledgment, attention and recognition provide a greater buzz to him/her than cocaine. In the unfortunate event that you are ever approached by a wankerist at a social function, the following lines work wonders in defusing the situation:
“Yes, how fascinating. Goodbye.”
“Congratulations, you friends must be very proud. Do you still remember their names from when your first imagined them as a child?”
“A lawyer huh? If you can interpret complex legislative provisions with such ease, why not a bored face?”
“I noticed your partner asking a few of her colleagues to have a quick peek at her briefs. She mentioned that a senior associate offloaded them to her several weeks ago. Someone should talk to her about that. It really doesn’t sound healthy.”
In the event that the above does not work, kindly inform the wankerist that you must excuse yourself briefly in order to get a VB from the bar. Upon hearing this, the wankerist will no longer wish to be in your company, owing to the abject fear of being seen with an individual drinking local beer.
On a more serious note, I have recently come to realise how many ‘masks’ we wear when dealing with different people. Most of us are multi-faceted in that nature, changing our personality as readily as a chameleon changes colour in order to meet the expectations of different social groups. To some extent, I am little different. The ‘work me’ is a much different creature from the ‘social me’. More alarmingly, the ‘social me’ is not exactly static. It can sometimes change slightly in order to better accommodate, or rather complement, its surroundings.
Put simply, I can be either silly or serious depending on the company I keep. Quite thankfully, however, I do have a number of close friends with whom I can be both. It’s reassuring to see that they can ‘read between the lines’, appreciate my rather unusual blend of cynicism, satire and humour, and respond with unrestrained wit and flair in equal measure. Every once in awhile, it is therapeutic to laugh and giggle moronically at politically incorrect jokes that would leave others dumbfounded, to appreciate the timeless beauty of toilet humour, to make light of the dark, to ignite one’s gaseous emissions in a dimly lit room … ok, maybe not the last one, but it does go hand in hand with ‘making light of the dark’.
It’s easy to hate people who do not let you get a word in edgewise. Don’t get me wrong, its not that I like talking about myself. However, every once in awhile I prefer to steer a conversation towards matters more pressing than haircuts, favourite sandwich fillings, white sugar v. brown sugar etc.
People often mistake me for being shy, if not downright rude when it comes to socialising. Nothing could be further from the truth. The simple fact of the matter is that I am not one for idle banter. Neither am I at the opposite end mind you. For example, was I to meet someone at a party my conversational starting point would not be neo-conservative politics in the US or the impact of colonial literature in post-apartheid South Africa. Rather, there has to be a middle ground between idle chit chat and ‘me-so-smart-and-sophisticamated’ ramblings.
On more than one occasion now, I have found myself a social function talking to some woman about her hairstyle, clothing, dietary requirements and favourite shampoo. This statement is not meant to cast aspersions towards women nor make a gross generalisation of the supposed conversational skills of the female of the species. Rather, it’s an observation of how reluctant some people can be to move away from their purported ‘comfort zone’ when meeting with a stranger. Social conventions seem to dictate that the conversation must be light-hearted, highly impersonal unless you’re discussing grooming habits, devoid of ‘religion and politics’, incapable of drawing out opinion on contentious or topical issues.
Of course, there are certain social scenes in which the abovementioned convention is done away with almost in its entirety. Legal Practitioner Parties (LPPs) are one such example. In that situation, the aim of any conversation is to prove that your intellectual penis extends far beyond that of the person with whom you’re conversing. The discussion can become exceptionally personal, as you are quizzed on your secondary schooling (public or private), tertiary entrance rank, undergraduate and postgraduate studies (honours, masters, doctorate), employer (top tier, mid tier, suburban practice, in-house, public service), income (yes, nothing is sacred) etc. Once answered, these very same questions are then asked again, but this time directed to your partner (assuming you are in a relationship).
The above behaviour is best described by some as either ‘wankerism’ or ‘big dickedness’. It can be readily observed in most upmarket watering holes around Sydney, specifically those in and around Circular Quay (a lawyer hotspot). Although entertaining to watch, the situation is markedly different should you find yourself inadvertently becoming a participant. You see, one object of social wankerism is to subtly insult your companions, such that they do not immediately realise the slight against their name. This particular aspect of a wankerist’s social interaction can take years to refine and develop, and further requires an intimate understanding of their friends’ weaknesses.
In seeking to counter a wankerist, the best approach is to simply ignore the person. A wankerist will take great offence at being ignored, as acknowledgment, attention and recognition provide a greater buzz to him/her than cocaine. In the unfortunate event that you are ever approached by a wankerist at a social function, the following lines work wonders in defusing the situation:
“Yes, how fascinating. Goodbye.”
“Congratulations, you friends must be very proud. Do you still remember their names from when your first imagined them as a child?”
“A lawyer huh? If you can interpret complex legislative provisions with such ease, why not a bored face?”
“I noticed your partner asking a few of her colleagues to have a quick peek at her briefs. She mentioned that a senior associate offloaded them to her several weeks ago. Someone should talk to her about that. It really doesn’t sound healthy.”
In the event that the above does not work, kindly inform the wankerist that you must excuse yourself briefly in order to get a VB from the bar. Upon hearing this, the wankerist will no longer wish to be in your company, owing to the abject fear of being seen with an individual drinking local beer.
On a more serious note, I have recently come to realise how many ‘masks’ we wear when dealing with different people. Most of us are multi-faceted in that nature, changing our personality as readily as a chameleon changes colour in order to meet the expectations of different social groups. To some extent, I am little different. The ‘work me’ is a much different creature from the ‘social me’. More alarmingly, the ‘social me’ is not exactly static. It can sometimes change slightly in order to better accommodate, or rather complement, its surroundings.
Put simply, I can be either silly or serious depending on the company I keep. Quite thankfully, however, I do have a number of close friends with whom I can be both. It’s reassuring to see that they can ‘read between the lines’, appreciate my rather unusual blend of cynicism, satire and humour, and respond with unrestrained wit and flair in equal measure. Every once in awhile, it is therapeutic to laugh and giggle moronically at politically incorrect jokes that would leave others dumbfounded, to appreciate the timeless beauty of toilet humour, to make light of the dark, to ignite one’s gaseous emissions in a dimly lit room … ok, maybe not the last one, but it does go hand in hand with ‘making light of the dark’.
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