Learning to Lie

Yesterday my faraway love called me as he was preparing to brave the crowds and begin the field work component of his social research. He sounded terrified and asked me how he should approach people. My instant internal response was anxiety. I thought, 'How would I know? I would never ever ever create a project that required 'cold call' interviews. I would drop off the face of the planet first. I would hide under my bed. I would drown myself in two-inches of water in a kiddy blow-up pool. I would run away over bubbling tar on bare feet before I began to interview strangers on the street. 

After a moment's pause, I realized I simply couldn't tell him that most obvious truth. So I said, 'It's natural to be nervous but I have absolute confidence in you. You are born to do this kind of research. The first day may be rough, but it will prepare you for the rest of them. If anyone blows you off, it isn't you they are rejecting. Once you get the hang of it, you won't even be nervous anymore.' 

This was all true. I do have supreme confidence and admiration for my husband. I am frequently amazed and tickled by his brilliance and insight. But to produce this answer, I had to think in a completely unnatural way. Ordinarily I respond to people with pure empathy. Considering my own social anxieties, empathy would only make me nervous and do no good for him. I learned, on the fly and rather well I hope, that bluffing it can be quite effective. I can't wait to go out and develop my new skill in other adverse situations.