Friends,
I'm kidding when I say this, but still: there might be nothing worse than when someone you know gets a blatantly bad haircut (well, okay, getting one yourself is probably worse). And not because you have to look at the hairdo...
The problem is that from the moment you lay eyes on that butchered 'do, you're in a real communication pickle. Let me explain.
The Bad Haircut Dilemma
So you'll know what to do the next time you see me.
Your fate is sealed within 1 second of viewing the bad haircut. Because within that first second, you have either nonverbally (or verbally) revealed that you notice the change, or you haven't. If you haven't, then thank your lucky stars, you can escape from this thing unscathed. Just continue to ignore the person's hair and go on with your life.
If, however, you've accidentally shown that you realize a haircut has occurred, there's no escape in sight. You're then obligated to lie and say you like it. There's just no alternative. Consider the silent approach:
No, once you acknowledge the new hairstyle, you're obligated to say something about it. Saying nothing to follow it up would be super awkward, as I hope was captured in my drawing of the armless people above.
But what if you really, really hate the new 'do? I don't know what to tell you. As far as I can tell, you're looking at a choice between lying and saying something terribly mean. Just try to learn from your mistake and next time don't tip your hand. Or just stop noticing the world around you. But definitely don't make a noticeable response to a friend's strange new look.
The hard part is that it's so natural to respond to a change in someone's appearance. When something's different, your eyes tend to go straight there and your face tends to smile or freeze in an awkward surprised expression.
Let's problem-solve
You know, brainstorming and spitballing and stuff
Is there some creative solution to this dilemma that I'm not thinking of?
Have you been trapped in the Bad Haircut Deathtrap before?
Jon
Friends,
Before I start in on this topic, I have about a million disclaimers to make. A few of them include the facts that:
- I love facebook
- I love my iPhone and its sundry features
- I check my email all the time (in fact, too many times)
- There's no actual recent example of texting (etc.) that is motivating this blog post, so no need to be paranoid or suspicious (unless you broke up with me in 8th grade via a note; you know who you are)
- I'm not writing this from some moral high ground. I'm writing it from a cocoon of blogging, texting, and emailing from which I rarely emerge
So don't read this as an attack on technology or social media. I'm not one of those oldfangled people griping about how smartphones and the internet have robbed us of face-to-face interactions with each other. I'll never advocate a long-term abandonment of facebook in order to free up more time for, um... honestly, I'm not even sure what else there is in life.
And yet, and yet...
The evils of written text
I was torn between "sundry" and "divers" in that last section, but I was worried you might think I meant "more than one diver"
There are just some things [apologies, confrontations, break-ups, rejections, and the like] that need to be communicated in person. Or, if not that, over Skype. In the absence of physical presence or video chatting, some form of telephone. But don't write it down. Don't ever write it down.
The problem is, written communication, in which you don't have to look a person in the eye, is just so much easier. And that, of course, is why we do it. In the face of something potentially scary or nerve-racking or unpleasant, we'd much rather communicate the words without actually saying them.
The problem with that problem is, people have dignity that demands personal, actual communication. When you need to make one of these communications, I think it's a pretty simple cost-benefit analysis:
the other person's need to be dignified as a human vs. my desire to be comfortable and/or save face
And honestly, I think it pretty much comes down to how selfish we are in that moment.
In sixth grade, it was easier to ask out girls in a note instead of in person or on the phone. So we sometimes did it that way. It must have been much, much easier for those girls to break up with us in a note, too. Because they often did it that way. In high school, when we were too old for notes but before texting had been invented, we sent our friends to tell people we were mad at them, or else did it over AIM. In college, we left a note that said, "Dishes!" on the sink.
The only thing we didn't do was make meaningful noises with our mouths to the actual people involved.
And now, in the information age, we have many more weapons in our talk-dodging arsenal. We've graduated from wide-ruled notebook paper and post-its to texts, emails, and Facebook messages. But the dilemma is the same, and so is the solution.
Look the person in the eye.
Please comment (ironically in written text form)
But there's no dilemma, unless you're planning on breaking up with me via a blog comment
Do you struggle with this communication dilemma?
Have you been hurt by a text that should have been a meeting?
Am I making all of this up?
Jon
