Thought is too complex for some people. That's probably why the woman at the next table couldn't keep her mouth shut. If she didn't have a mouth she wouldn't be so scrawny. Instead of tackling her food, she yakked non-stop. No wonder she doesn't gain any weight!
Her lunch companion did not say a single word. My order arrived after theirs, but I was finished eating before her. The customer behind her ditto. Likewise her lunch companion. Remarkably she was speaking English, despite being capable in Cantonese as she had demonstrated when speaking to the waitress.
That peculiar ellision that some people have when taking shortcuts in their second language; at once both irritating and fully intelligible, lending a cadence to their speech. I listened quite entranced, despite there being no real content. A pointless monologue. The lady at the table behind her (招牌燒雞,炒飯 "special roast chicken and fried rice") did the same.
We dawdled over our hot beverages.
[There is a choice of three set lunches daily, with either rice or spaghetti. Roast chicken leg, porkchop, or a lovely bit of fish. With a cup of coffee or Hong Kong style milk tea.]
There is something hypnotic about pointless chatter.
It's more about validation than communication.
Self-reassurance, with a sounding board.
She asked for a to-go container.
To finish her lunch elsewhere.
Some people, self-confidently extroverted, are not gifted with a talent for small talk. If their listeners are anywhere on the spectrum, they will wonder at the inane chattter.
And might at some point strive to cut to the chase or cut it all short.
Being only mildly antisocial Aspy, I will perhaps interject something along the lines of "do you also hear that odd whistling sound in the background?" or "did something move over there?" Instead of saying "oh do please shut up!"
My apartment mate, who is more so than I am, has far less patience.
Greenworld busibody: "we've got to save the planet for my grand daughter!"
Apartment mate, angrily: "Oh sod your bloody grand daughter!"
End of discussion. There was none to begin with.
Often I have wished to say something along the lines of 'sod your bloody granddaughter', but I am too diplomatic to do so. Not that I can't be confrontational when necessary, but if I take control of the conversation something may yet be salvaged. In the case of the lunchtime chatterbox there was zilch to save. I doubt she was aware of what she was doing.
Her table mate probably didn't even hear her.
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