“Double-Talk” Should Be Divided
Ray times two = condescension
Peter, the fellow in charge of the line-up for take-out meals served to the needy, is unfailingly friendly to all. He greets the regulars by name — twice for Ray.
Welcome, Ray-Ray.
Then:
Your mask is slipping, Ray-Ray.
Step on up, Ray-Ray.
Up with the mask, Ray-Ray.
Enjoy the meal, Ray-Ray.
Again with the mask, Ray-Ray.
All told, a twelve-pack of Rays.
Ray accepts his eponymous egg carton without comment. Ray rarely speaks. For months, I’d assumed he was somehow impaired.
Until one day last summer, upon his approaching the food table, he startled us servers with a smile and “Good evening, ladies.”
It was we who were nonplussed. By the time we’d recovered our voices, Ray had headed off with his meal.
Ray hasn’t spoken since. Nor has he flashed a hint of a smile, even in response to mine.
After weeks of one-sided smiles, I began passing him the sack in poker-faced silence.
For which, as I write this, I’m reproaching myself. Starting tomorrow, I will smile and greet Ray by name.
Once.