Where you from?

Just the other day I went for a coffee at Starbucks again and was subjected to a friendly interrogation routine by the barrista (barman) which has become very familiar to me after nearly 8 years in Malaysia.

It went something like this:

Barrista: Where you from, Sir?

Me: I’m from the UK

Barrista: Oh! Which part of the UK is that sir?

Me: Reading, between London and Oxford.. South East England

Barrista: Really? We learn most of our geography about the UK from the EPL! Do you follow any of the EPL clubs?

Me: (pretending to know something about football) ..well, I think Reading have done very well lately but I don’t really follow any of the clubs. I only follow England and Italy during the World Cup.. it was a pity about Steve McLaren getting fired as England Coach…..

Barrista (serving my coffee) OK sir thank you! Please come again!

This is a perfect example of the kind of conversation routine which I have to go through time and time again here in Malaysia. Everyone thinks I am a football lunatic just because I say I am from the UK. So I have to pretend that I know something about the game, just to maintain social cohesion.

This is what linguists call ‘phatic communion’ – the use of meaningless bits of chatter to maintain social ties, just for a few moments until the need for the social tie is gone. Then, the conversation instantly pops like a balloon.

In the UK, we talk about the weather – “nice morning isn’t it?” “Let’s hope it doesn’t rain tomorrow” etc etc… There is no real communication or desire to know each other’s deepest inner feelings about it, just the need to fill in those unpleasant silences while we wait around for something more meaningful to happen, like a bus.

The conversation I had with the Starbucks employee had a mildly noteworthy and equally phatic sequel. Just as I was picking up my coffee from the barrista, there was a well-heeled Malaysian Chinese man also picking up his order. He said that he overheard that I was from Reading, and informed me proudly that he had studied in Brighton, that quaint remnant of 19^th Century seaside hedonism on England’s South Coast.

So we shared a brief phatic exchange about the British weather and Brighton fish and chips (the best in the world), which was finished off by the obligatory “what do you do for a living?” sequence. It seems everyone is faintly surprised that a professor in a local university drinks in Starbucks. Especially at the airport. They all think I’m in town waiting for a flight to somewhere else. Very embarrassing.

So next time I get asked where I’m from, I’m thinking, I’ll pick a different part of the world, just to mix things up a bit and make the conversation a bit more meaningful and genuine. I won’t say I’m American, because I might get my coffee thrown back at me, I won’t say I’m Australian, because the barrista might start talking about cricket and his auntie who lives in Sydney, and I won’t say I’m from New Zealand, in case they start talking about Rugby.

I know! I’ll say I’m Italian. With my new goatee, I could pull it off and my stepfather is from Lake Garda so I can talk about Italy a lot without sounding stupid even though I’ve never been there. That’ll work nicely.

As long as they don’t ask me about football!!