Small Talk

I just had a bizarre conversation in the office kitchen. I was making some coffee, and someone came in to grab a pop.

(Yes, “pop.” Look at the drink. Do you see bubbles popping, or sodaing? You bake with soda, you drink pop.)

Anyway, the conversation went like this–

Me: “How’s it going?”
Him: “Pretty good. Our work was mostly front-loaded this episode.”
Me: “Yeah?”
Him: “Yeah. Everybody’s waiting on us. Always a lot of pressure.”
Me: “I imagine.”
Him: “It’s a big push to get it all done, but once it is, it’ll feel good to have the deck cleared.”
Me: “Mm hm.”
Him: “Well, I better get back to it. You know how it is.”

Except… I didn’t.

I had no idea who this guy was, what his department was, or what the hell he was talking about. I kinda recognized his face, but he could have been talking about serial murder for all I know.

Why do people assume I know them? I find myself acting like the guy from Memento, nodding and pretending to know them, just to avoid the awkwardness.

I suppose I could try to learn their names, but… Well, I guess, technically, I could care less. I’m just not sure how.