What with all the the talk of the above noted malady, there seems to be a trend towards NOT shaking hands. This, the idea of "shaking hands" in itself, begs a full article, what with countless pointers and directions about time, speed, and intensity of grip all playing into the A, B, C personality crap, but herewith, we are focusing on an singular episode. Read on...
Yesterday, I was asked to escort an agent to his new listing -- a BIG home; grand in all scales, not the least of them all was its age as well as the age of the owner. The owner, an elderly matron had, it seems, raised a whole family of children in the home. Those seedlings, now all sprung to full bloom in diaspora fashion across the globe, and husband, now gone to reward, the elderly woman decided to put the home on the market:
"Such a big home for such a small old lady," she said as my young agent friend brought me forward.
"Mrs. XXXXX, I want you to meet Al. He's my mentor, a great guy who knows everything about this area."
"Hello," she says, with a stern look of motherly scorn.
"Pleased to meet you," I say and I reach out to, yes, shake her hand...
"Heavens no," she says, and she recoils a feeble step.
"Oh, I am ever so sorry," I aver, "what with all the talk of swine flu and shaking hands, what must I have been thinking?"
Just then she applies: It has nothing to do with swine flu, young man. I just do not want to shake YOUR hand, now or ever! You were a bad boy, a bad little boy...do you know how long it took me to get those stickers off the bathroom mirror?!?!"
Stickers, bathroom mirror...oh yes, Bugs Bunny, Foghorn Leghorn, Yosemite Sam, and yes Porky Pig...I just have been 4 years old when I visited a strange home, for what reason I shall never know, and in a moment of childhood creativity, found some stokers in a room somewhere and plastered them all over a mirror. IT WAS THIS HOUSE!
"Bad boy," she said. You left without telling anyone. You deserved to be fully reprimanded. You were a sloppy dirty little pig of a child. I hope you have corrected yourself!
I am, again, 4 years old.....
"Now go...," she points to the kitchen, "in there, on the counter is aplate of fresh cookies. Take a napkin, and NO crumbs, I say!"
