“So, what are your plans for today?” asked Debbie.
I had met her for the first time in my life only a minute prior and she was already asking me about my plans for the day. Welcome to small talk at the barbershop!
I don’t ever recall talking with barbers during the gazillion haircuts that I had in India, when I had a head full of thick, curly, dark hair. I waited for my turn, sat on the chair, and paid up when the barber was done. That was it.
Things are done differently in the US, which I realized right from my first haircut a month or so after I landed in Los Angeles.
I was surprised that my hair would be cut by a woman. That itself was a first in my life.
As she started working on my hair, which was thick, curly, and dark, she commented, in her Mexican accent, about my hair. She liked my hair!
I had no idea then that this was all part of small talk, which is why I thought it was a tad creepy.
She then took it up a notch when she said that she loved my skin color. What? My brown skin, which was considered inferior to the “white complexion”, is appreciated here in the US?
Over the decades, I have become fluent in small talk. In fact, small talk is way easier than serious conversations. It is give and take about meaningless shit after which we go our separate ways. Rarely ever is small talk a foundation for anything that resembles a relationship.
So, when Debbie asked me about my plans for the day, I was ready for the game.
“Running errands, and groceries.”
“Oh, you have the day off?”
“Nah, I’m retired.”
For the first time in all these months, I said that I am retired without feeling any emotions. It was a matter-of-fact reply that was no different from spelling my first name to a customer support person.
It was quite a coincidence that this flat acceptance of my retirement status, without any emotional baggage over how I came to be retired, happened on March 15th—the Ides of March.
Nope, the connection is not anything Caesarean. In 2002, March 15th was when I interviewed for the job in Oregon. Of course, in my talk, I joked about the "Ides of March." After all, a job interview in an academic setting includes a whole lot of small talk, and humor is an essential ingredient in this.
Twenty years and a fortnight later, I was forced into retirement.
Given the uncertainties in life, it is all about life unfolding itself. Khe Sriram, Sriram Que sera sera! The Ides of March is but one day, fateful or not, in a story that we tell ourselves about our lives.
I didn’t share with Debbie this backstory about the importance of the date when she asked me the question, nor about how my retirement was not planned but that it resulted from a layoff. According to the unwritten protocols for small talk, we engage in all things superficial; getting into details will turn the other person off.
“That is nice,” Debbie replied. “I have a tough time imagining myself not doing anything,” she added.
I don’t do anything.
I am bald, with grey facial hair, and, oh, I am retired!
More retirement talk here: