Hello, Goodbye
It’s sunny out, the quad is covered in picnic blankets, and with an empty grocery bag in each hand, I cross campus on my way to the supermarket. Unfamiliar first years glide past as I approach the gate. Then, from around the corner, a friendly face appears. It’s that one person I talked to last week at a party. Or that person I took two courses with that one semester. Or that person I have known since intro week. As we get closer our mouths simultaneously morph into a smile. Forced or authentic, who can tell anymore? I raise my hand as if someone is pulling it up—a puppet with strings pulled by campus etiquette. We walk as we wave. “How are you?” they say. “Good, and you?” I reply. “Fine”. And there the exchange ends there.
On especially good days or when meeting exceptional people the conversation might be extended. “Good” could turn into “tired” along with a brief summation of upcoming deadlines. “How are you” might include a short delay in movement, like when someone almost comes to a stop. And of course, there is always that special version of the campus greeting, that meaningless addition meant to cover the tracks of our indifference: “We should catch up!” No time frame, no mode of communication, nothing concrete. Sometime, somewhere we’re all going to catch up with someone. Because, admit it, we’ve all made these same vague plans.
I’m not bitter or upset about it. I don’t want to complain about campus or cancel its culture. I am simply wondering where these customs come from. Could it be an international thing? After all, countless other aspects of expat life have seeped into our student experience. Or perhaps it’s American? As Amazon packages flood the reception and the free world indoctrinates us with letter grades (by the way, the “E” is missing), why not also greet the Yankee way? Or maybe it’s just young people, unwilling to have clumsy conversations in their awkward states of being.
There is some logic to these instances of asocial socializing. We live on a small compound, trot down common paths, and frequent the same building. Not to mention, everyone knows everyone. So if we start chatting we might never stop. Is that why we keep it short, why we don’t slow down, and why we never answer truthfully? Of course, I am exaggerating. But still, I miss the sincere and direct greetings that I’m used to, and these shallow alternatives make me feel almost invisible. Is anybody even interested in me?
Yet when I go home over the break these very greeting habits accompany me. Yesterday, strolling down the block, a neighbor greeted me. In passing, I asked her “How are you?” and quickly walked on before I could hear her response. She turned around, confused, watching me go. “Did you ignore our neighbor?” my mom asked me later that day. Embarrassed, I stuttered, “Yes, I did.”
