sweaty yeti & first impressions

Not many things can compete with the sound of a wet hi-five. Except maybe a Singaporean handshake. 

**

You're at work and you're about to meet the new guy. You make the normal amount of eye contact that's required to introduce rank, intentions and friendliness. You smile. You lean forward, extend your arm, and clasp hands.

Aaaaand regret. 

So much regret. 

You're really trying to hide that regret from your face. 

Your wincing smile doesn't fool anyone, and the newbie pulls away too quickly. But you let him. You don't miss a beat and continue talking, just as you wipe the aftermath of Niagra Falls onto your suit. 

I'm quite certain everyone's experienced this awkward-for-all-parties scenario. It's pretty unavoidable, and there's no universal rule on how to navigate through the interaction. You don't need to carry the weight of someone else's sweat in your life, and they're at a loss for how to control it. Some people sweat profusely because they're nervous. And then there are others who run like a dripping tap. Almost continuously. I've got a lifetime membership to that club.

Yeah, I know. Gross.  

It doesn't depend on nerves, mood, temperature, seasons or the position of any planets (that I know of). Googling remedies will hit you with more information than you can handle: injections, pills, rubbing salt... No doubt many work, but the side effects compete with back-ally concoctions. So I stick to fist bumps whenever I'm not greeting a professor or someone marking my exams. It rarely goes down well without an explanation, and someone always feels a little discriminated, questioning why they're not "clean enough" for the palm massage. Honestly, I'd rather that than wordlessly agree to not notice you rubbing my DNA into your slacks. 

It's rare, but there have been instances where my hand was in drought while I shook a moist one. So it's a little confronting, I admit. It definitely takes a certain level of confidence to maintain a clammy handshake. I've met with a few and was in awe at the heartiness and solidity. What really ruffles my feathers is my shaking partner assuring me "there's no need to be nervous". I'm not nervous. I'm really, really not. Don't insist that it's "OK". Just don't do it. Wiping it on my pants before I go in for the shake? HA. When your hands have been sweaty all day, a quick swipe against my jeans ain't gonna do nothin'. 

If first impressions are everything, then my portable fish tank you dip your hand into isn't really going to be opening many doors, personally or professionally. But there are some benefits. My hands are softer than a rose petal, and I can leaf through a book without licking my fingers (impressed?). It also keeps my germaphobe side content that I'm not rushing to scrape everyone's daily activities off their hands.  

This has become a challenge I didn't have to deal with as a kid. Hi-fives weren't that popular until I got to high school. Not many things can compete with the sound of a wet hi-five. Still, greeting someone with the Singaporean handshake is a close comparison. I can see the assumptions oozing out of their ears and it becomes a mission to try and salvage the birth of that relationship. Clammy hands are a burden some people will carry until old age. We're not dirty. We're not sick. We're not nervous. Our bodies just work a little differently. Wipe your hand afterwards if you want to, just don't make a big deal out of it. You don't even want to know what a wet slap feels like.