|A goodbye can go both ways.|
A solid goodbye should go unnoticed. It should be a seamless transition that thrusts the conservationists in opposite directions. But in real life, it’s just not that easy, and when a goodbye is off it just may interrupt the pace of things with an awkward and painful lapse in direction for everyone involved. An adieu is like a handshake; the words may join the cadence of a conversation, including its end, or linger in uncomfortable doubt. The former perpetuates awkward moments. Can I go now? Or is there more to this conversation?
Like many posts, I thought about this topic while on a train this afternoon. After a long and obnoxious conversation in front of perfect strangers, a man said goodbye into his phone about fifteen times. With each painful iteration, his voice raised an octave. With his final goodbye, see-ya, bye-bye, baaaayyyeeeee, I truly thought the glass windows may shatter. He finally hung up and smiled like he was an elf that just finished sanding his one-thousandth wooden horse.
How much is enough? I hate goodbyes, especially now. Didn’t you already say goodbye? He made me wonder whether it was over, 14 different times. What was unfair, other than the jibber-jabber in an otherwise peaceful train, was the man put me in the awkwardness. I was in the middle of a bad handshake, but didn’t have a hand in the conversation. Wasn’t six goodbyes enough? Was the person on the other end also ratcheting up the pitch of his or her cheerios?
Maybe there is something to 10-4 over and out. I say we bring it back, make it part of our mobile phone contracts. Hey, even the guy on the train couldn’t really say it without sounding bad arse.
Peace. Later. eD, Out.
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