A question no one wants to answer

The first days of Yale are peppered by quick, pointless conversations. A returning Yale student must answer the holy trinity of questions: How are you? How was your summer? Where are you living this year? Inevitably the answers are just as inane as the questions and the conversations are forgotten as quickly as they begin. For your friends, the responses to these questions matter. But most of the time they are merely filler for otherwise uncomfortable moments.

SARAH ENGLAND/YH

The day before returning to Yale I was leaving a Cincinnati hospital parking garage. I pulled up to the cashier with my ticket in hand and greeted him with a half-hearted "how's it going." To my surprise, he mumbled something in response—something that was not "fine" or "all right." I asked him to repeat. "I don't want to be here," he said.

My mind clunked. After a few seconds, I attempted to bring the conversation back to its previous banality. "I'm sorry to hear that," I said. "It's the hospital's fault," he stated definitively. "It's the hospital's fault." I was again at a loss. "Oh." "It's that I'm too stupid," he added. He completed the transaction, and the gate lifted for me to exit. "Have a good day," I concluded pointlessly.

On the way home, my thoughts were drawn to the conversation. Perhaps the cashier had spoken with the many drivers that preceded me. Perhaps they had given him some feedback or advice. Even if they had responded to this lonely parking attendant they would have inconvenienced the rest of the backed-up cars stranded in a parking garage in the midst of rush hour. He left no easy solution for the unsuspecting driver.

The presence of other people in our lives defines and enhances our experiences. It allows us to say "remember when we" and "like that time when," and so on. But in this case the parking attendant begs important questions about the nature of people. What happens when we are stretched beyond our social limits? How should we respond to a statement that impinges on the freedom of our thoughts?

A certain social code shapes our interactions. "How are you?" means nothing of the sort. It demands an answer that matches its tone—"fine," "great," or "okay." Never "bad." And definitely never "I don't want to be here." This last response has a place, and that is between friends. What the idle questioner expects is a mindless answer. We crave banality in our lives. We often ask "How are you?" not because we legitimately care about the answers but rather because they provide comfort.

I engage in these inane conversations as much as everyone else, and inevitably I slip into the comfort of "fine." I am sure it is the same for others, particularly at this haven for the neurotic and ambitious.

I am still puzzled about the cashier, and his words rattle through my head. I wonder if he continues to respond to his patrons in the same way. I wonder if any of them had advice for him, or if they exited as quickly as I did. Perhaps since then he has quit his job or been fired. He is one of several thousand blue-collar workers in Cincinnati, and if I saw him I would not recognize him. His words have become an unforgettable touchstone for the silent majority who are dissatisfied with their lives—but at the price of my comfort.

We dare not deal with the brunt of our complaints and emotions. They are best left alone. When someone gives us a how-are-you, we are wise to respond "fine" and not "I don't want to be here." If we spill our guts we often end up feeling quite empty inside.

Jay Augsburger is a senior in Saybrook.

Back to Opinion...