Don't Talk to Strangers

It’s one of the first lessons we are taught as children: don’t talk to strangers. As we get older, we learn to balance the logical reasons for the rule with the need to get by in the world. Need to know the time but don’t have your watch? Okay, ask a stranger. Trying to find a landmark in a foreign city? Fine, you can ask a stranger. There are numerous circumstances where engaging with a stranger is either necessary or simpler than the alternative. It can also periodically be a very rewarding rule to break. Some of us would still be single if we hadn’t warmed up to a stranger at some point. However, for every circumstance where it makes sense to open up and talk to a stranger, there are an equal and opposite number of circumstances. And these other circumstances can get particularly tricky when the stranger in question is talking to you.

In the past couple of weeks, I’ve had two encounters with strangers that have made me want to remind people of this cardinal rule. The first occurred while waiting for a streetcar with a fellow colleague. We were chatting about work and life and the local architecture when another would-be passenger decided to join our conversation. She began to tell us at length about a building she’d seen on Queen Street that had an old sign showing “Molson Bank”. She then segued into a history lesson on how banks of old were run. Despite the fact that neither my colleague nor I had anything to add to her conversation, she never seemed to get the hint that we’d rather just be left alone. She laughed at her own jokes as she presented us with the history of Canadian banking. She ignored the fact that neither one of us made eye contact with her, or that we intermittently tried to staunch the flow of her diatribe by resuming our former (private) conversation. It wasn’t until the streetcar arrived that we were able to make a break to a two-seater at the back of the car and get back to our idle chatter.

The second instance occurred while attending an early morning spin class at the gym. Juggsy and I were trying to get a real workout after the comedy of our stripping class and were struggling with the fact that although we were dressed and ready to spin, the sun had not yet risen. We were maintaining the type of conversation possible prior to coffee and a shower – brief and intermittent. As we waited for the other students, we spotted a man who had clearly just joined the gym. He was wandering about the room, looking for something to do while obviously unfamiliar with the variety of equipment he could choose from. He asked the instructor what we were doing and was told, “we’re about to start spinning, and you’re welcome to join.” Buddy walked over and took the bike next to mine and began to talk. “I’ve never spun before, is my bike okay?” “I’ve always liked cycling, ever since I was a kid, so this should be fun!” Throughout the class, I could catch him looking at me out of the corner of my eye. I knew that even the slightest turn of my head would prompt another spurt of “gosh, this is hard but working out is fun” so I kept my eyes dead ahead.

In either instance, it wasn’t the fact that a stranger wanted to engage in conversation that bothered me. I can understand the desire to want to be a part of something or to share your experience with another. That’s part of being human. But you cross the line into obnoxious when you refuse to read the signals others are giving you. If the person you are engaging in conversation won’t make eye contact, won’t respond, and is physically turning their body from yours, you should take the hint and keep your brilliant conversation for someone else. I suppose I could have said as much to my streetcar interloper and my spinning interrupter. But, I didn’t want to make them uncomfortable (instead, I allowed them to make me uncomfortable). Perhaps the addendum to the rule about talking to strangers should be: if you poke it and it doesn’t move, that conversation is dead.