One of the most common things you will hear is that communication is king. I’m not sure who came up with the rules of communication but they have certainly been conditioned into us. “Macca, what are you talking about?” I hear you ask. Well, apparently there are places to communicate and places to not; places where a nod is appropriate and nothing more, like in an elevator where it is not only inappropriate to communicate but even facing the wrong way can make you appear as evil as Lucifer himself. No one knows why, it’s just the done thing, it’s how it’s always been. Go to a urinal at a pub at 9pm on a Friday and it’s the home of the chat between strangers, everything from the old toilet humour of “Jeez, the waters cold”, to “Shakin’ hands with the unemployed, mate?”. Try the same lines at the shopping centre’s men’s room and see how long it takes security to show you how non-flexible your arm is when it’s behind your back.
At a park a complete stranger will say good morning but at an airport the same person works as hard as a one-legged man in an arse-kicking competition to avoid eye contact. As I said, I don’t know why it is, I just know it is so I have dedicated my life to being the guy in the lift facing the wrong way, smiling at everyone and saying G’day! But if that’s a little confronting for you, I know a spot where everyone talks and where all subjects and levels of communication are accepted at all hours. It’s called a campfire: make one as often as you can and invite all you can to join you – I guarantee it will be the best place you can hang out.
