It happens a lot at the grocery store. Just as I’m rounding the corner to find that elusive can of peas, someone approaches me with The Look. You’ve seen it — probably even given it — the drawn face, knowing eyes, intent stare, her hand touching mine. Then comes the question, “How are you?” Just trying to get my peas, I think, but there’s more my friend wants to know. And, there’s more I want to share, too. Yet, often, I find myself gingerly juggling canned vegetables along with a quick, but intense, catch up with my grocery-store-aisle friend.
It’s a curious encounter, one that most of us experience as we bump into each other and, consequently, stumble onto all sorts of things about the accoutrements of each other’s lives. Sometimes, the exchange is good — our child is succeeding in math class, her husband just got promoted, my friend just lost 10 pounds. Other times, we are met with more discerning news — her child is failing math, his wife is cheating with her gym partner, we all put on 10 more pounds.
I’ve long ascribed to the idea that there should be a high-tech stamp placed on our foreheads alerting folks to special information. When you get within two feet of someone, a laser image appears on his or her forehead with simple messages like “Loss,” “Sickness,” “Troubled Friendship,” “Money Problems.”
Think how this could cut through the usual drill of superficial pleasantries. I’m sitting in a board meeting with my eyes glazed over a 100-page PowerPoint presentation as the facilitator drones on and on about the significance of this issue whose topic I can’t even recall. What is the presenter’s deal? Why the intensity in his presentation? Then his FIMS (Forehead Instant Messaging System) clicks on. His forehead reads, “Going Through Painful Divorce.” This is when I decide to dismiss my thoughts of being inconvenienced when I remember he’s filling a void right now. Let’s help him with this. I readjust my seat. This isn’t so bad.
The possibilities are endless with the Forehead Instant Messaging System. Heated conflicts could be negated, judgmental stares replaced with empathetic looks; road rage would end, heated words minimized. It’s love all around with the FIMS—well, maybe not love, but acknowledgement at the very least.
I think it could work. It might even include a feature where you can change your message just like on your telephone answering machine. Your forehead could read “Doing Better Now” or “Just Ran a Mile for the First Time since My Treatment” (but this feature only works for very wide foreheads).
An added feature to this system could be the permission to not feel compelled to share what’s going on in your life. Our Dr. Phil society has a propensity for spilling out too much intimacy in forced and uncomfortable situations. The FIMS avoids this — just a glance at a buddy’s forehead and you have all you need to know.
Perhaps this is the integral key to world peace, at least down a cold grocery store aisle among the chatter and the produce and talk about the real stuff. Yes, I’m looking for some peas. Yes, I’m having a tough day.
Thank you for asking. And how are you doing? Your forehead looks a little tired, too