Impressionism

February 8, 2026

Meeting someone for the first time, no matter what the occasion, is awkward.  Perhaps this is because so many things are happening in such a brief snippet of time: snap judgements occur within milliseconds; sweaty palms, while we simultaneously try to listen, speak and produce non-verbal cues and slick movements into the mix; all of this, as we primitively study this other person’s facial expressions, often having little clue or control over what our own mug is revealing throughout this clumsy ‘first dance’.

Is it maybe awkward because at least one of us is not engaging authentically?  Well, that hardly seems fair– I mean, we had to show up in order to even be in such a position; yet, when the implication is that showing up is purely obligatory (work, school, an interview), we quickly learn that just because we agree to something, that doesn’t mean we’re comfortable or even happy doing it.

This becomes evident in so many areas of our lives, as our first encounter behaviors may be telegraphed, essentially, by how much we actually want to “be there”.  A great deal of these experiences depend on the personal gravity of the situation: basically, “what’s in it for me?”; when we ask this question, we’re exercising superficiality, so it comes as no surprise that the networks and systems to which we apply ourselves don’t always, if ever, complete the needs of the individual; just take a look at the world of retail.

A person who is working in the customer service department or in the checkout lanes earns a flat wage and typically experiences the highest number of first encounters than any other employee.  The first impressions they are making generally hold much less value to them than the first impressions that their coworker Bob is making on the sales floor, especially if Bob is earning a commission.  So it makes sense that one’s vested interests fuel a desired outcome from these interactions, relative to their domain; but this does little to guarantee a smooth social undertaking.  

The job interview itself, the one that earns these positions, is a singular event where some of us just might behave the closest to our authentic selves.  As we approach this one-shot, we do so with the understanding that the stakes, in this case, are long-term financial stability, structure, a little recognition and possibly even some benefits or perks– seems like it’s a “win”.  A bit of humility, a dash of bravado and the underlying fact that we truly believe we want this job, however, are not enough to prevent the interview from being one of the most awkward experiences a person may endure.  At the end of the day, it’s not a place that was meant for us, it’s just a job. 

Message Diluted

In the automobile industry, there are many different workers with whom we may interact, from  the people selling cars, to the folks who fix them; and it’s almost always an awkward conversation (for a variety of reasons), regardless of what our counterpart may stand to gain from it.  Has it always been like this?  I would certainly think that we once had a stronger grasp of the concept of physical language, to help boost the authenticity of our behavior, the pride in our work, and likely the quality of our impressions. 

Language is the key ingredient that binds us all together, keeps us honest, and maintains civility; and I’m not just talking about English or Spanish; but the natural, biologically sound methods of communication and collective understanding that we have developed, in order to remain a human race for this amount of time.  I’m starting to wonder if things keep getting awkward face-to-face, because this natural system of language is being replaced with a synthetic, infinite web, where expressions pump the heart, but impressions vanish in less than a heart beat. 

The number one cause of human anxiety, when you strip it down to the crux, is other humans.  We don’t have to imagine the widespread damage this would create if more and more of us were feeling overwhelmed and anxious and infecting the next person with this convenient affliction, because it’s already happening.  

Instead of engaging in two or three meaningful conversations with other people every day, we choke on 100 GB of sensory equivalent data per every, single, day; and most of it is meaning-less, to the point where its only actual connection to us is the fact that, in the moment, we clicked on it– but there are oh, so many moments and endless clicks.

When our senses are flooded to this extent, it seems obvious that, not only are we ever more incapable of making a good first impression, it feels like we don’t even really care if it happens.  We have a comfort that we can always slink back to when things don’t go well, but that comfort is becoming the very cause of why things don’t go well outside of it.  

If this sounds like the vicious cycle of an addiction, it most definitely is;  but as we’ve mentioned in previous essays, when everyone is doing it, are we not destined to feel like the village idiot for resisting the juice, only to be found smiling, waving and trying to know real people, in real life?  I guess it depends on how we look at it.  Real human connection is necessary for the survival of our species, so I’d like to think that I wouldn’t harbor any shame in the act of its endorsement.     

I’m not positive that humans were less tense 50 years ago, firstly, because I wasn’t alive then; but also, the fact that they were consuming exponentially less information than we are today doesn’t just mean that they walked around with their heads up; it means that they had to obtain exponentially more of their information from physical language and interacting with other humans, face-to-face.  The only way to look at this is: we’re falling way out of practice.  

The Mirage

Let us assume that we still have to look at each other for at least a few more decades.  In fact, tomorrow we might have to talk to all sorts of people, some of whom we’ve never met before.  That should sound cool, but it brings about so much anxiety in us these days– not the nervous excitement we used to experience when stepping into our first day of summer camp or stepping out for a first date; but a restless exhaustion that suggests, maybe we don’t really want to be there.  At some point, we might have to consider asking ourselves: why, as fish, can’t we seem to ever locate the fucking water?

Those who sell the most cars are typically the ones who actually do want to “be there”; those who keep the most customers happy are the ones who actually care about them.  If we’re still interested in putting good energy out into the same world upon which we continue to exist, the places where we can really mess around and discover who we are, continue to remain in the tangible places we can touch and smell and hear and feel; not in the digital spaces of modernity, where we’ve grown to be comfortably numb.   

If awkward interactions with strangers are constantly creating too much stress for us, perhaps we need to reevaluate just where on earth we actually want to be– and then avoid going there.  Being comfortable should not be a prerequisite for engagement, quite the contrary; instead, it should be the result of our willingness to be open to something that has inspired us enough to pursue it naturally.  The more time we spend interacting with people face-to-face, the less we’ll dread it– hell, we might even begin to enjoy it. 

When we meet somebody for the first time and they make a genuinely positive impression on us, we certainly don’t ask ourselves, “I wonder what’s their problem?” or, “Just what do they think they’re trying to pull here?”.  It’s almost beside the point what this person is after if they make us feel comfortable enough in their presence.  That good energy is also infectious, but like the water, it just might be getting harder to find.   

We don’t all have to be that person; but like them, we all possess the ability of presence.  When we practice good conversation and truly engage with other people on a regular basis, we just might find a river, or lake or even an ocean in which we can finally be us, scales, gills and all; and if nothing else, it makes it a lot easier to spot the phonies and sift through the bullshit.  

Maybe we’re at that point where we need to decide if we’re wasting one another’s time by laboring through every boring or uncomfortable situation, distracted and unamused.  In other words, when it comes to our energy and our attention, I say “show up completely or don’t”– just try and make sure that, wherever we do end up, it’s where we were meant to be.