No Second Chance at First Impression
W e may be slouching toward the middle years, but our circadian rhythms are still on the mark. Here it is early September, and we keep getting the nagging feeling we ought to be going back to school.
And along with that feeling comes the slightly uncomfortable notion that we have to get ready to make a good first impression. Because--remember?--the first impression you were going to make on schoolmates you may not have seen for three months weighed fairly heavily on your mind.
Have we learned anything since then? Do we still get a dry mouth when we know we’re about the be evaluated for the first time?
HE: I got my first lesson in first impressions during my first week of high school. I played football that year, and the team was required to work out for a good part of the summer. Neck exercises were very big. We were also required, as a show of idiot solidarity, to shave our heads. With newly muscular necks and no hair, we all looked like .45 slugs from the shoulders up.
My best friend started calling me Fuzzy, or Bullethead. Girls who used to be friendly looked at me as if I’d turned into a serial killer. The ragging went on for many long days.
I’d made a memorable first impression, all right, but I had to spend the next year or two undoing it.
SHE: When I was in school, all I thought about were first impressions, second impressions, third, fourth and fifth impressions. I was terribly worried about how others saw me.
But now that I am a grown-up, full of confidence (most of the time), I’m the one with the checklist. No sooner do I say, “Nice to meet you,” than I notice a person’s teeth (clean, healthy?), fingernails (clean, manicured?), figure (overweight? svelte?), hair (stylish? unkempt?).
Notice I didn’t say clothes or jewelry. I couldn’t care less. Though I admire good taste in both. But people who take good care of themselves physically are usually worth knowing. Those who don’t, aren’t. After all, if he or she doesn’t care about themselves, how could they care about me?
HE: Here’s a neat trick. Next time you’re introduced to someone for the first time, try to make sure you’re close enough to them to get a close look at their eyes--a really close look. The pupils involuntarily react to what they see--and to what the brain tells them about what they see--and they accordingly expand or contract like the lens of a camera.
Let’s say you open the door and there stands Ed McMahon with a big check. Your pupils automatically dilate because your brain wants to let the eyes take in every bit of that lovely sight (the check, I mean). On the other hand, if you open the door and clap eyes on a guy holding a subpoena, the pupils shrink to pin dots.
This little anatomy lesson can save you loads of time and strained conversation. Of course the person across from you with the saucer-like orbs could hate your guts and have just gotten into the pot stash.
SHE: Have you thought about a career in optometry?
Bet you’re dying to know what makes my pupils dilate when a guy comes into view. Surprise! After the above-stated grooming musts, a happy expression. Nothing turns me off faster than a guy who looks like he’s ready to wield a whip. But, have him flash a sincere megawatt smile my way, and I’m mush.
After that, I notice a man’s grammar (if he says “don’t” instead of “doesn’t” I’m outta there) and his table manners (does he slather butter over the top of a whole roll?).
Then, finally, his humor. You know what they say about men who make women laugh.
HE: Yeah, I know: “Oh, you are sooooooooooooo funny! Let’s just be good friends.”
But back to business. Maybe I just have a strong instinct for self-preservation, but I tend to notice a kind of overall presence when I look at a woman. It’s a kind of combination of posture, carriage, ease, openness. Mostly it’s a lack of artifice, either in movement or in speech or in expression. And, just like you, I can be chased from a room by a flinty, knife-edged, casehardened look that says that this woman, more than anything else, wants to be feared. Believe me, I’ll oblige her.
And a nice smile isn’t good enough. Lots of people can show you their dentist’s best work and still look at you with eyes like dry ice. The entire face has to be involved in a lovely smile.
SHE: Fashion gurus are saying that kids will make a good impression if they have these five essentials in their back-to-school wardrobes: a pair of jeans, a backpack, a bright plaid shirt, hiking boots and a colorful jacket.
Well, I’m no kid, but even I have the jeans, the bright plaid shirt and the colorful jacket. Now all I need are some boots and a backpack. And a lovely smile that involves my entire face, of course.
