On a campus with a student body that numbers in the thousands, I have discovered an intriguing fact: the phrases "good morning," "hello," and "fine, thanks" do not exist in the vocabularies of the vast majority of the population.
Each day I perform an experiment that I began in childhood: when I pass people in hallways or on the sidewalk - concentrate, now, this is the complex part - I talk to them. I greet people. I ask them how they're doing. And while I occasionally get a much-appreciated smile or greeting in response, for the most part, I am stared or glared at as though I had just inquired if they had seen the flying saucer last night.
February was a bad month for me. You name it - if it was bad, it happened to me last month. Having someone smile at me, talk to me, acknowledge my existence in this sometimes-dreary world brightens my day considerably. So, whenever I left the security of my dorm and faced the world, I would greet people I saw.
"Good morning!" I masked my stressed, depressed mood with a smile and a wave. I received a glance in my direction, but this person's attention was apparently needed more on the fascinating, black, unchanging pattern of the asphalt.
"Hello!" I greeted the next passerby.
"Hi."
"How are you?"
Apparently this person had already fulfilled his required one-syllable response quota, so I walked on.
My day continued. Eventually I said hello to the bronze statue of Dr. Fronczak on my way out to my car. His response was the same as most of the student body, possibly with more eye contact.
UB would be a far happier place if we just took that leap and greeted someone we didn't know. It's easy. I would even go so far as to guess that replying to the person who just spoke to you is an easier way out than to calculate the nearest object to stare at as though it were inscribed with the answers to all of UB's midterm exams.
You know what I'm talking about - we've all done it. You anticipate eye-contact with a stranger and suddenly your brain goes into full red-alert searching for a way out - {object sighted - girl, age 18 - smiling - making eye contact!} DANGER! WOOOP, WOOOP! {Full retinal focus directed at pigeon excrement on sidewalk located at 45 degrees north}.
Dare I go beyond the simple hi/hello enigma to another pet peeve of mine?
Please answer the following multiple-choice question:
Which of the following sentences is a question?
If you chose answer c., you could qualify for a spot on "Who Wants to be a Millionaire," or maybe pass the first grade.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, "How are you?" is a question. And a question, as defined in the American Heritage Dictionary, is "an expression of inquiry that invites or calls for a reply."
When I ask how a person is doing, I really - honestly - do care how that particular person is faring on that particular day. But when I ask, "How are you?" it is generally during a time when I would not mind sparing a moment to hear how you really are.
I will admit that sometimes when you ask this little question, you may get more than you bargained for. Take the example of the poor guy that stepped into an elevator with me last November. I was, at that moment, entertaining about seven minor freshman-student crises, and was about ready to go nuts. So, at any rate, this guy asked, as the doors were closing, "How are you?"
I burst into tears and spilled out to him all of the woes of my life. "I'm sorry," he said, "I hope things will get better for you!" "Oh, well, it will . things are okay . I just have to find the check and get to the theatre and write my paper and study more . but thanks! Thanks, I'll be fine."
Oddly enough, as the doors opened and I walked off, I really did feel better; someone out there cared and listened, and hoped things would get better for me. My point is, even if you do get a nutcase response when you ask this question, it generally never hurts (and most times, helps) to ask it, and it generally never hurts (and sometimes leads to conversation) if you answer it.
And what is the actual point of my wild ranting? It is this: I can't be the only person out there on this campus who feels alone amongst thousands of people. Talk to people. It never hurts. Sometimes you even make friends this way.
