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Do you hear what I hear?
Isn't 'overlistening" fun?
of The Columnists.com
Eavesdropping is impolite. When you catch part of a fascinating conversation that you just can't ignore, it's called overlistening. That isn't rude. Sometimes it's quite educational and entertaining.
There were a few young couples on the crowded bus who kept all of us entranced. One pair was politely word dancing around whether or not she would give him her phone number. She solved the problem by telling him to give her his number. Another lad was doing all he could to impress a girl with his bravado and macho bearing.
"Those guys down at the shop make me so hacked off I just want to get me a crowbar," he told her. "I'd rather have a sushi bar," she smiled.
Restaurants are the usual place to hear good tidbits. In one I was overlistening to a couple of office cohorts discuss children. He was telling her he loved his three sons, but he did wish he had a daughter.
"You want a girl? Tell you what, you can have mine. I'll give you the kid, her clothes, her toys and $50 cash. Take it. It's the best offer I'll make."
A same gender group of people can give lots of interesting information. When I used to stop for coffee at this one place, I made it a point to sit close by the women from a local bank. They all knew about the extramarital affair one of the vice presidents was having with a part time typist. No one guessed their secret until they booked a conference room and forgot to lock the door. The wide-eyed woman telling the tale said she innocently walked in. They were copulating right there on the conference table.
"That makes her a permanent employee now. She's been nailed on a table," volunteered another woman. A lot of coffee was snorted, choked and sprayed all around by those of us who heard that.
Then there was the time I overlistened to a father and teenage son in a grocery store. Apparently, the son was visiting from out of town and the father was encouraging him to choose food he liked.
"Son, do you want this kind of cereal?"
"No, I don't eat that kind."
"Son, would you like tomato soup or chicken noodle?"
"I don't like either one."
They came to the pet food aisle and the father said, "What kind of dog food do you like to eat?" The startled boy answered, "Dad! I don't eat dog food!"
"Well, if you don't eat people food, you don't live on air, then you should get used to dog food while you're here. I wouldn't want you to starve."
My veterinarian's waiting room can sometimes result in sad stories. On one visit I began feeling great empathy for the woman who was talking to her caged cat.
"Now, Tillie, you know I don't want to do this to you. Mama loves you. I need to do what's best."
"Oh, the poor woman. She has to have Tillie put to sleep," I assumed.
When the veterinary technician came to the front desk and called her name, she hesitated slightly before standing up. Cage in tow, she approached the desk.
"Tillie's never been away from me, never. I hate to leave her, but I want to take my vacation out of town this year. Here," she handed the vet tech an envelope. "I've written a page for each day I'll be gone. Read her a new page a day, please. That should make her feel less lonely and deserted."
Good grief! Writing letters to a cat? Our cats are very loved and overindulged, but we don't write letters to them. I leave my extra cell phone with the veterinarian when they are boarded. That way someone can take the phone to them and they can hear my voice. Certainly that's more practical then a letter. So what if I do call them every day? The price isn't that high. If I want to call them more than once a day, well, I pay the bill.
One of the men in an office where I worked heard me talking on the phone. "I love you, sweetheart. Yes, I do. Kissy, kissy. Bye."
"Do you still leave lovey-dovey messages for your husband?"
"No, I was talking to our cats. They can hear my incoming call."
Remember, if you overlisten to people talking about you, it may not be all good. I know. The time I went back to Philadelphia to meet my first husband's family, I heard things about me. One of the aunts had held a big family dinner for us. The food was wonderful and the family was fun.
After dinner I wanted to do my part clearing the table. On my first trip into the kitchen, I found them talking about me.
"She doesn't know much about Italian food, you think?"
"It's not only the food she doesn't know much about. You hear how slow that girl talks? I'm telling you, she bought her first pair of shoes just for this trip."
"Yeah, those hillbillies don't need shoes."
You could have stuffed both of my new shoes into my open mouth.
Follow my advice. Listen and learn. I'll keep overlistening every chance I get and pass my stories on to you.
© 2002 by Patricia J. Geister. The illustration is from IMSI's Master Clips Collection, 1895 Francisco Blvd. E., San Rafael, CA, 94901-5506, USA.
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