Why do all social situations have to have the potential to be awkward? Why can’t people just agree to keep quiet, nod to each other and move on? This would be a much simpler, less annoying and awkward way of being.

I currently work in the same building (not for the same company) as a girl I used to work with about five or six years ago. It took me about four weeks to remember exactly who she was. I could remember her face, but couldn’t remember her name, or where I knew her from. Then, one day it just came to me. It’s Katie.

When we worked together before, we were cordial and social in that we spoke at work and at company happy hours. But we didn’t really interact one-on-one much inside work because we worked on two different teams: she was on the sales team; I was on the production team.  But, I do remember her, and speaking to her at work-related social functions.

For the last six months, I’ve walked past her office (she’s next to the cafeteria – so it’s a high traffic area) without saying a word, but have occasionally made eye contact with her for the half-second that I’m in front of her open door.

Every time this happens, I think to myself, “Does she remember me? Is she wondering how she knows me? Do I look familiar to her? Is she asking herself these same, dumb questions?”

For a normal, socially skilled person, they might talk to her and let her know that they used to work together. But not me. I’m not socially awkward. Don’t get me wrong. But, I also don’t charge into social situations with my social guns blazing. I’m quieter. Subtle. I’m like a social ninja.
 
When I enter a social situation, people don’t even know I’m there. They sense something, but they just don’t know it for sure. They ask, “Is this a social situation? Are we exchanging pleasantries?” By the time they hit that second question in their head, I’m gone, and they have no idea what happened. They feel like I just stole something from them… like a ninja.

Now with this girl, I have not had the opportunity to use my ninja approach. With her, our social battle would be more like trying to sneak into a fortress that’s located in the middle of an open field in broad daylight wearing a shirt that says, “Intruder.” No matter how I approach, she already knows that I shouldn’t be there.
 
Unfortunately for me, I have been thrust into a social battle. I got an email from a concierge company that gets discount tickets to local events. From the list of events, I decided to purchase tickets to Disney On Ice: Celebration! I emailed the concierge company to find out where I need to drop of the order form for the tickers.

Guess who replied? Her! Guess who I need to give this form to? Her!

So now, I’m filled with anxiety – comical anxiety – but anxiety nonetheless.
 
(It’s funny that having a girlfriend doesn’t lessen the anxiety even though there’s no potential romance factor to consider. You would think having a girlfriend would make it easier to talk to women in a normal, not-hitting-on-you way. Sadly, it does not when you have to factor in the “um do you remember me” aspect.)

I’m asking myself, “Is she going to remember me?” I like to think I have a pretty good memory, and I often remember things/people that most others would forget. Some might consider this a good thing, but if you actually consider it, it’s quite a curse. It all but guarantees that I will remember her and she won’t remember me.

Few things are more humiliating than remembering someone who doesn’t remember you. So, then I start asking myself, “do I just hope she remembers me, and let her know that I remember her? Or do I just pretend like I don’t remember her and let her initiate the ‘hey we used to work together conversation’”?

I like the second choice because it has the highest likelihood of us just nodding and going our separate ways. But, I don’t know. It seems like the cowardly choice. And, I’m a social ninja, remember? I’m not a coward. Okay – so here it goes.

(This is where I go down to her office to purchase the tickets. It will seem like an instant to you, in writing. But, in actuality about 10 minutes have passed.)

As I left my cube, confidence was high. I was walking tall, thinking, “I’m a social ninja!” As I got closer and closer to the office, doubt beagn to set in: “What if she doesn’t remember you? Then you’ll feel like an idiot if you say something. So don’t say a word. Yeah, you’re not a social ninja, you’re a social coward… it’s time to start acting like one.”

Confidence was falling… fast. I began walking slower; stomach in knots over what was likely to only be a minute-long exchange. This is why I hate forced social interaction. You psych yourself out and make it bigger than it needs to be.

Anyway, I entered her office, and – wait for it – she wasn’t there!

Another girl was there to take my order form for the tickets. “Disney On Ice tickets? You’ve been speaking with Katie, right?,” she said.

%$^&%$#@#$%#$!!!  She wasn’t there. All that build up, all that nervousness over potential awkwardness… for nothing. It figures… That’s the way things work, it seems. And the kicker is that I’ll have to go through this all again once the tickets arrive! Grrr…