The Interlocutor's Dilemma, -OR- The Politics of Chit-Chat

Everyone I've ever known has wished me well/At least that's how it seems, it's hard to tell/Maybe people only ask you how you're doing/'Cause that's easier than letting on how little they could care...

Jackson Browne, "The Late Show"

I took a class in college (in the sociology days) in which we talked a lot about the social expectations of behavior that we meet repeatedly, often without consciously thinking about them. In particular, I've always been fascinated with what constitutes "honesty" in social interactions, and how it is simultaneously valued and feared. Think about how many times you have truthfully answered the question we may be asked more than any other: "How are you?"

For another crazy thought experiment, think about how many insects you have killed in your lifetime. It's probably A LOT.

Anyway, people I barely know seem to ask me how I am doing frequently. Coworkers, casual acquaintances, store clerks, friends of friends: all seem to regularly inquire as to my personal well-being. And I say: "Good, how are you?"

Or, "Not bad, you?"

Or even, embarrassingly, "Can't complain."

What I find fascinating about this ritual is the understanding between parties that neither one is expected to behave completely honestly. I am not expected to ever, for instance, tell them that I feel like my life is leaking away through my fingers like water. They, in turn, are not expected to actually pay much attention to my response.

Imagine that you see your second best friend's sister, whom you only know casually, at the movie theater. You are close to her in line and a verbal encounter is essentially unavoidable. She turns around and recognizes you. Here is how the conversation is likely to occur, following the traditional rules of social interaction:

She: Hey, how's it going?
You: Pretty well, how about you?
She:Good ! I'm excited about this movie; it's supposed to be funny.
You: Yeah, me too. [First awkward social pause]
She: How's your sister?
You: She's fine. Hanging in there.
She: Cool. [Second awkward social pause. It's her turn in line and she moves toward the ticket booth] Talk to you later!
You: Bye!

Here's how this conversation might play out if both participants are being forthright and honest, without fearing the consequences of breaking societal folkways:

She: Hey, how's it going?
You: Not great. I didn't even get an interview for that job I applied for and my shin splints have been really bothering me. How about you?
She: Oh, that's too bad, but I'm not going to pretend to care too much because we barely know each other. I'm think I'm going to break up with my boyfriend after this movie, so I have mixed feelings about the entire night, anyway.
You: Well, he seemed like a total asshole at the one time I met him at Kevin's. [First awkward social pause]
She: We really don't have much to say to each other.
You: I know.
She: I'm not even sure if I remember your name. [It's her turn in line and she moves toward the ticket booth] Anyway, bye.
You: Bye.

Can you imagine a society in which everyone said exactly what they were feeling to just anyone? Although I sometimes get frustrated with the extreme superficiality of everyday life (yes, I am exactly like Holden Caulfied), it's important to remember that without these simple rules, our social interactions would quickly break down. The unbearable weight of everyone else's bad vibes would crush us. Likewise, those among us who are generally and unnaturally happy would easily become grating to our sour, acidic selves.

After all, social niceties, even when feigned, do mean something. I may not care about how the guy who rotates my tires' trip to the Binder Park Zoo with his nieces and nephews was cut short by a thunderstorm, just as he doesn't care about the hard-to-find Iron Man figure I bought at a comic convention and later regretted spending $50 on; but we can still show our respect for each other as humans with a simple act of conversational sleight of hand. Even lies can tell the truth.