The Icebreaker

My interviewing skills are a work in progress. The fundamentals are there: formatting the appropriate questions, choosing the right people. But it's the physical portion that needs tinkering; you know, the actual interview. Being bashful by nature, it's hard for me to randomly chitchat with a stranger.

However, more times than not, I'm able to mask the shyness and dig up my inner socialite after the first interview, the icebreaker.

So I've developed a strategy to make this opener clean and comfortable: talking to old ladies. And I mean old, not fifty-something, I-can't-stand-these-hot-flashes-anymore old. I'm talking slow-moving, cat-collecting geezers.

Why? Simple. They're sweet, helpful, and best of all, non threatening. Besides, it's the Sunset; oldies are easier to spot than steroid users in Major League Baseball.

Let's see if it works.

An elderly woman walks down the damp sidewalk, clutching her button-less coat shut with one hand as the other secures her dog's leash. The cloud-filled sky begins sprinkling light raindrops onto the woman's snowy-white hair, while the accelerating wind raises the scruffy fur from her companion's face. Fearful of the looming storm, she lowers her head and picks up the pace.

"Excuse me, ma'am," a young reporter said. "I was wondering if..."

Not bothering to gaze up, the woman quickly shifts her preoccupied eyes at the notebook in his right hand.

"No, sorry," she said. "I don't speak English."

There wasn't a hint of accent in her voice.

Hey, I never said my plan was guaranteed.