I made friends with the tamale guy at the farmers’ market last Saturday. This is embarrassingly huge for me. Not making a friend so much – more to do with how it happened.
I was waiting for someone who was standing in the world’s slowest line. (With the world’s oldest, sweetest farmer.) So I busied myself looking through tamale flavors at the stand across the way.
After muttering a cold, inaudible greeting when I first walked up, the guy was pretty much ignoring me. He probably assumed I was just another sample-scarfing stop-and-run, which I very nearly was.
But then I noticed one of the tamale packages was marked Tinga. I’ve only had something called Tinga once before – on special at Mijita in the San Francisco ferry building. It was amazing. And then they never had it again.
(San Francisco locals & visitors: Get thee to Mijita, please.)
Well I got so excited at the sight of a Tinga tamale that it thwarted my usual know-it-all tendencies. (My pervasive hesitation to show ignorance about something. Really about anything at all.)
And when I asked about the Tinga, the tamale guy got super animated – he explained the traditional dish to me, and then proceeded to school me in the best way to prepare that particular tamale.
(Steamed, then lightly pan fried in olive oil, and stirred into scrambled eggs for extra oomph.)
We laughed and bonded, I bought some tamales, and we bid farewell like friends. That interaction (and the tamales) pretty much made this particular farmers’ market experience.
And without my question about the Tinga, I would have missed out. For sure. And by no fault of his. (See sample-scarfers above.)
No — I’m usually the problem. Because I am not a good question-asker. I am a very good know-it-all.
I have some issues with being vulnerable. Or knowledge-vulnerable? What do you call the habit of never wanting to appear as if you don’t have all of the answers? Beginners-mind averse? I like what Martha Beck calls it: The Kindergarten Complex. I’ve got it.
In my work life, after plenty of experience fumbling around and spinning my wheels, I’ve pretty well learned to ask questions as soon as they arise.
But if I walk into a new coffee shop, I have an overwhelming need to pretend like I already know the protocol. Yes, it’s weird.
And this defense mechanism would be funny if it weren’t so counterproductive. I’m not sure what I’m try to protect (ahem, ego?), but it doesn’t exactly endear me to friends and family. Or strangers.
If I pretend I already know how to make tamales, there are a few obvious consequences: I miss out on the connection with the tamale guy, and my tamales come out dry and blah. But it has me wondering about how it extends to other, more subjective, situations.
Like: What about pretending (to myself) to know that I won’t be good at something before I ever try it? Or that someone doesn’t like me, without ever being the one to wear my heart on my sleeve?
It just can’t end well. Maybe I’ll try to play with this pattern in some easy, low-risk ways. Like asking more questions at the farmers’ market tomorrow.
Does anyone else do this? Pretend to know your way around a coffee shop?
{ 4 comments… read them below or add one }
Oh goodness, yes. I might ask questions about the what, but not about the how. Because of course I should be able to figure it out. What if I was the last person on earth – I’d have to be able to figure it out then. Come to think of it, not being able to ask for help for certain things probably was a defense mechanism, not an independence thing like I used to think. *she thinks ruefully back to the days when she assembled her IKEA furniture solo – particularly the bookcase, which said “Requires 2 people”*
Putting together furniture is the perfect example! (And reminds me of my over-assertion of independence with things like moving and getting myself to and from the airport.) Oh, at least we’re learning enough to laugh about it, right? :p
I’m sort of split personalityish on this. There are times when I have no problem asking all kinds of questions (sometimes I even do it to help other people feel comfortable asking their own questions when I know I’m not the only one with questions). Then there are times when I desperately need to look like I’m “in the know” and would rather die than ask a question. However, I do everything I can to avoid putting together furniture on my own. It’s amazing what friends will do for a six-pack . . .
@Jessica, I so get the split personality here. Kinda funny the things we make rules about and the things we don’t. Well done by you for not making rules about furniture, though!
And p.s. Had the tamales for dinner last night… mmmmmmmm.