THE UMBRELLA GAME

Say what you like about his dancing,
but Gene Kelly didn't have a clue how
to use an umbrella

I was walking back from lunch today, thinking about 2007. I'm not quite sure why - probably just reflecting on some of the story arcs which began that year and affected the next seven.

There were flecks of rain in the air. Behind me, over the village, dark grey clouds; in front of me, the sky was peppered with blue between the white. I was heading in the right direction.

My colleague Louise approached me on the road. I guessed she was marching into the village.

There's an optimum moment to acknowledge a colleague walking towards you on a lunch break. Smile too early and you've got to figure out what to do next. You can't keep smiling, that'd just make you look like you're a little too pleased to see them coming. Smile too late and they might miss it altogether and think you're blanking them. I normally tend to go for the smile, nod of the head and miniature waggle of the eyebrows - you know the kind of look that says 'Made it out for lunch then, eh? Nice one, yeah me too, k bye.'

I smiled.

"Oh God, I hope I don't get rained on," said Louise, marching past. I slowed and turned.

"Oh, do you want to borrow my umbrella?" I offered, pointing it at her and stopping. She stopped too, momentarily. It occurred to me that we were sort of frozen in time, me shooting my colleague with a tightly-wrapped gentleman's umbrella.

"Ah no, I'll be alright thanks," she replied, breaking the tableau.

"OK cool," I said and walked on.

A few minutes later, I stood outside the revolving door, shaking off my umbrella while the rain hammered into the tarmac of the visitors' car park. Poor Louise.

Now, what happened there? Why did she refuse the umbrella? Did she imagine it was offered out of mere politeness? Is there a subtext-game going on here where Person A is supposed to offer something to Person B knowing full well that Person B will politely refuse? In that game, Person B is supposed to feel good because they were offered and took control by refusing, while Person A is also supposed to feel good for offering in the first place. It's a win-win, supposedly. Only, one of you's going to get soaked.

I guess you could call this back-and-forth racketball, the Umbrella Game. It happens with lifts too.

"Do you want a lift?"

"Aw, that's kind. I'll be alright though, thanks."

"Suit yourself"

In today's episode of the Umbrella Game, I think Person A (me) was also supposed to feel justified (smug) when arriving at work as dry as a bone while Person B (Louise) looks like they fell in the lake. I didn't really feel anything like that, not even when Louise squelched into the office - just bemused really. I didn't say anything though. Maybe I lost after all.

There are subtle levels to the Umbrella Game though, aren't there? I think Person B trudges back to work wishing they'd taken up the offer but can never mention it. Also, in the initial exchange, I think Person A could make the rally last a little longer. Well, a little longer than I did. I just thwocked it back into the net (though not as clumsily as saying 'suit yourself' mind you).

"Do you want to borrow my umbrella?" ... Person A serves.

"Ah, no I'll be alright thanks." ... ooh volley on the forehand from Person B!

"No seriously, you can, it's fine." ... thwack, that's a corker.

"Oh no, honestly I'll be OK. I won't be long." ... cross-court return

"OK no worries." ... oh and it's a lob! .... "But don't say I didn't warn you!" ... oof, it's in! - right on the line, a blistering winner there! 15-love.

You know, I think I might be overthinking it, overcomplicating a very simple conversation. I ought just to be thankful that I got back to work without getting soaking wet. Though I still can't figure out what started me thinking about 2007.