Thursday, May 24, 2012
On Telling People Stuff
My sister and I have this thing - it's like a talent, or a curse - where people we don't know well tell us all kinds juicy, insane stuff about themselves.
Neither of us can figure out what it is about us that makes people talk and talk and talk to us, but they do. They just slop our troughs with everything they can think of. And then sometimes they decide we are their best friends, because we've stood there and absorbed all this errant information without recoiling in horror.
When I have worked at normal jobs, this always happens. I show up for work and then the telling starts. It's fine at first, sometimes annoying, but also seems completely crazy to me. I view workplaces as hostile environments, not settings in which to disclose my sordid past or display my tender spots. Maybe the whole world doesn't work this way?
I guess the thing is, though, that if you are one of those people who just blows your personal wad on people you've just met, you should check first to see if the person you're unloading unto is me or my sister. Because there is a porous membrane between us as far as data exchange goes. What she knows, I know, and vice versa. And I'm a writer, with this blog, see. So. Yeah. Beware.