But first, let’s talk about math.
If a woman asks you, “How old do you think I am?”, what should you tell her?
Here’s the formula I use:
Take the number that’s in your head — 25… 37… 42… — then subtract 100.
Works every time.
No woman has ever been offended when I guessed “negative 58.”
But I almost made the mistake of not using this magic formula last weekend at a Christmas party.
I was in Washington D.C. with my dad at a party thrown by one of his business friends when the woman I was speaking with asked the age question.
I was thinking “35…36…maybe more…?”
But luckily, before I could embarrass myself, she volunteered the answer.
28.
Ouch. Not even close.
But later, at that same party, I got a second chance.
I was talking with an older woman about Prague and she told me she used to live there with her parents when she was just a baby.
“What year was this?” I wondered.
But not wanting to ask her directly, in case she was shy about her age, I gave a very broad answer and let her have the option of being more specific.
“During communism?”
“No,” she said, “this was before the Second World War.”
Again, not even close. But I’m sure she was very pleased that I mistook her to be between 71 and 28 years old.
Anyway, the conversation continued and I learned more about her time in Prague. It turned out that her father was a diplomat and quite famous. During the Cold War, he helped persuade President Truman to adopt his policy toward Russia which became known as “containment.” Basically, her father is in the history books.
Quite an interesting link to the past.
Later, I told this to the host of the party. And he was quite surprised. He said he had lived next to her for years, but never knew that about her.
Then he looked a little regretful and volunteered this about himself, he said, “I wish I had learned to talk to strangers when I was younger.”
Interesting…
Here was a successful business man, the host of the party, friends all around him, but he confessed that he was still shy and wished his social skills were better.
I can understand that.
Many times a student has come to see me and when I ask what the problem is they tell me something like, “phrasal verbs” or “conditionals” or some other worthless label they learned in school.
And the interesting thing is, they usually explain their problem to me…in (almost) perfect English!
But I hear a bigger problem in their voice, or see it in their body… they’re tense, nervous, uncomfortable…
How much easier would English be if speaking to strangers was easier?
What would have a greater impact on your life? To be a master of the third conditional? Or to be able to start a conversation with anyone and make him or her your new friend?
That’s an idea you won’t get at Berlitz!
