24 August 2011

August 24, 2011

Someone once asked me what it was like to not care what people thought of me. She meant it as a compliment, but she didn’t know me very well: I care a lot about what people think. I always have.

Someone once told me I was a straight shooter. He said he was glad to know I would always be honest with him, but he had no idea how often I told him exactly what he wanted to hear.

I have a gift for that, I think: knowing what people want to hear. I could probably be a salesmen if I believed in anything and didn’t see right through myself all the time. I don’t think good salesmen are this self-aware. I don’t think good salesmen are existentialists.

There were two salesmen in Starbucks this morning. I knew they were salesmen because they laughed at everything the other one said, and they folded their hands in their laps while they waited to speak. They said stuff like, “due diligence,” and, “incentivize,” and, “seven hundred thousand.”

Yesterday, Ben was saying he’s not very good at pretending to laugh. I told him that’s my favorite thing about him.

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