Questioning the Customary Handshake
Or: Unexpected lessons from broken fingers
A couple months ago, I caught my toe on a big crack in the sidewalk. As I was in free-fall toward the cement, the thought jumped into my head, “I hate road rash on my hands.” So, I must have turned my non-dominant hand so that I took all my weight on my fingers. Yes, they broke. And yes, I needed surgery to put pins in them. I had also sprained the wrist of my good hand, and they put a brace on it. For a while there, I was a sorry sight.
About three weeks previous, I’d been hired for a new job. Their onboarding process takes about a month, and the new employee orientation was scheduled for four days hence. They’d called me that morning to come in and get my ID badge….
Well, the whole story is a bit long and convoluted, so for now I’ll focus on my lessened ability to tolerate a good, firm handshake.
This is a major concern for me. You see, in my circles, there’s lots of hugging and handshaking going on. Hey, we’re friends and we express it this way, officially and socially.
I have one friend who, at some point in her past, must have been coached on how to give a proper handshake. A while back, she reached out her hand to me, and that’s when I discovered she’s got the grip of a bear. When she seized my hand in her…
