Full-Face Smiles and the Guy on the Stairs

We pass each other almost every day, usually on the same staircase. We’ve passed each other for close to five years now.

And we’ve never had a conversation.

I’m pretty good about saying hello. And the “reply” is always the same.

A smile. A tight-lipped smile that is more reflexive than authentic, one that says “I acknowledge that we work in the same building, on the same floor, but I don’t know you, and probably never will.” That kind of smile.

Smiles are telling. Real smiles are what I like to call full-face smiles. The kind of smile that reaches to the eyes, and shows some teeth. Cheeks are raised. An authentic smile.

Apparently there are 19 types of smiles but only six are for happiness. I think we all know this but sometimes we too easily accept a smile at face value.

Some people cannot pull off the full-face smile and some can but do it so infrequently that you think their non-full-face smile is their best smile. They give you the class photo smile. The weak smile that does have the requisite upturned lips, and maybe even shows a couple of your top teeth. But it’s restrained. A tight-lipped smile. A sad smile.

Those are not joyful smiles.

So I get his business smile, I guess. But never a hello or how are you.

Each hallway passing, I think maybe this will be the day. Maybe today I’ll get a hello. Oh the suspense. Oh the agony.

I know I can come across as serious at times but I do like to chat. I’m no master at small talk but I enjoy it, certainly far better then a tight-lipped smile. Maybe I give off a vibe. Who knows? I could ask him, I guess. But would he answer?

Maybe he can’t talk, lost his voice somewhere along the line. I see him in other contexts and am not sure I’ve ever heard his voice.

It’s not always the stairs. Sometimes it’s the parking lot, or bathroom or hallway or deli. Sometimes he is with colleagues. But I don’t think I’ve ever heard him speak.

Or maybe he’s shy. He wants to say hello back or engage in a fleeting conversation but is too paralyzed with fear to speak to a stranger, even one he sees almost every day.

Maybe he’s focused, thinking about his clients or family or retirement, and emerges briefly from his deep thoughts to give me the tight-lipped smile, and then back inside his own head.

Maybe I need to be more expressive, draw out a better smile or some conversation.

Maybe I misinterpret his smile. Maybe that is his best smile.

I like smiles. I really like full-face smiles. Instagram and Facebook are great places to see the difference between class photos smiles and full-facers. At least, it’s clear to me. Perhaps I put too much stock in smiles and decoding them. I know I don’t smile enough though I hope I give a good one when I do.

See you on the stairs, guy down the hall. Keep smiling.