One of my favourite twitter and Facebook accounts is ‘Very British Problems.’ Managed by Rob Temple, it charts the quirks and eccentrics of Britishness. From standing in queues to drinking tea, making comments about the weather to our overbearing politeness, its wry and self deprecating style has resonated with me time and again. While twitter can so easily become a place of negativity, a laugh is just around the corner from looking at that oh so British of twitter accounts.
There are many especially British features that are often mentioned, such is our tenacity as a civilisation to maintain the same traits over hundreds of years. I’m specifically referring to the question ‘How are you?’ Probably the most asked question of all time, though I cannot verify this, it is the immediate filler to begin a conversation. Whether meeting someone for the first time, in a formal and informal setting, or an old friend known for decades, that question has become a staple part of our discussion to commence musings. As someone who values politeness, I should celebrate that this question has become such an intrinsic part of our British ways. When society seems, in my view, to be defined by individualistic consumerism, we should welcome people taking time to consider the lives of others. The question should allow people to open up and be honest about the welcome aspects of their lives, as well as all the trials and tribulations we endure. Except it doesn’t. I would imagine the vast majority of answers to ‘How are you?’ are ‘Fine’, ‘Very well, thank you’, or ‘Good.’ Our instinct is to immediately answer in the affirmative by providing a positive response to the question. That prevents anyone feeling sympathy, spreading our difficulties and allows others to believe everything is plain sailing. Life simply isn’t like this. Recently, I’ve been listening to the ‘How to Fail’ podcast with Elizabeth Day, where highly successful individuals recount things that have gone wrong in their lives. Nobody can or should be expected to have a perfect response all of the time. It shouldn’t be abnormal to respond negatively: we have bad days, a number of us have mental health issues and there are times when things aren’t fine. Yet it is like we have been programmed to view such responses as out of the ordinary. Were someone to reply in moods of gloom, our intuition would be to respond sympathetically, both in sadness for their experience and the fact they felt the need to express it. The questioner would presumably feel admiration towards their authenticity: that the person was going through such a hard time that they were willing to speak about it. This isn’t the done thing however. While we have become more open about mental health, something in my view to be welcomed, the primacy of the stiff upper lip remains strong, particularly among males. Mentioning emotion is seen as a form of weakness rather than an intrinsic part of humanity. Wallowing about one’s own problem is seen as neglecting the many other hardships individuals privately suffer without complaint. To be so open is to go against the orthodox social situation. I think this lack of authenticity, our innate response of positivity, is especially pressing with regards to ‘How are you?’ because of its universalism. The fact it can be asked in any context without seeming unusual means total strangers, for example, in a job interview, can peer into your private life. Naturally, there are parts we wish to keep private, especially the elements that aren't going to plan. Therefore, a neutral, one word response is likely to follow and move the conversation forward. Even the most open of celebrities have private aspects, that is the same for us all. We should, and do, filter who has the privilege of hearing the realities of our daily lives. I’d like to think one of my virtues is modesty. I know another is punctuality. One of the many things my parents taught me was the importance of arriving somewhere on time. It was a mark of respect - if you agreed to meet someone at 11am, you would be there at 10.45am. To arrive late demonstrates a careless attitude towards the particular event. Punctuality is also vital to progress. One cannot receive help, say in maths, without being in the maths lesson. It is the starting point from which all others follow. Where am I going with this? Only that I often arrive at locations early, such is the extent of my punctuality. This means I’m sitting and waiting for other people, who I may sometimes know well. On arrival, they will usually ask ‘How are you?’. If I’m having a bad day, I have two choices. I can either detail why things aren’t brilliant, which will take a considerable period of time. Or I can say things are going fine. While the latter wouldn’t be an authentic response, it is simpler. It is also more convenient, for the event we were arriving at would interrupt my true answer and mean I couldn’t be fully honest. The questioner I was speaking to would be left hanging as I would be unable to clarify my disclosure of sadness. This predicament has made me understand the benefits of therapy. While I’ve never been to therapy, the process reminds me of long form political interviews. Both are far more effective at revealing information, which is satisfying for both parties involved, than ten second soundbites or small talk could ever be. With therapy, there is simply time to disclose one’s woes, without fear of judgement, to an expert that an individual pays to listen. No doubt far more confidence and understanding is gaining by therapist and therapy attendee. One can only regret the financial barriers to those who require such a conversation: they may have nobody else to listen to them. Though I’ve learnt to become adept at managing small talk, I’ll always know it will never match the honesty and authenticity that longer discussion provides.
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