0.40 seconds.
That's how long it takes a fastball to get from a pitcher's hand to the catcher's mitt.
Just for reference: the average reaction time of a human is .75 seconds, which means batters in the majors actually have to begin their swing before the pitcher has released the ball.
It turns out that's also the amount of time we have to form a first impression of someone.
If the people I was speaking to were fastballs, and I was the batter, I was batting 1.00 for the first 10 days of this experiment. As I started to get more comfortable with the process, I found myself becoming more enthused about meeting new people, swinging for the fences on every meeting.
In case you missed the quick update I gave earlier this week, I felt the first sting of failure on Monday on my way home from work. Standing in the bus on my way home, I suddenly realized I hadn't talked to anyone new yet. In a panic, I looked around for someone that I could have a quick chat with. I spotted a young lady reading an old book across the aisle from me, and before I had a chance to stop myself, I blurted out:
"What book are you reading?"
The girl didn't react at first, but then slowly looked up after glancing to both sides and asked "Are you speaking to me?"
"Yeah!---" I clamped my mouth shut right there, as I was on the verge of pointing out to her that she was the only person on the bus with a book in her hands. (TIP: Insulting someone within the first 5 seconds of meeting them isn't a good idea.)
She looked at the book, then at me cautiously, as if telling me the title of the book would somehow be detrimental to her health.
"Gone With The Wind" She informed me graciously.
I was taken aback, and could only blurt out: "OKAY. I wondered because it looks old. So. I wondered."
...
I didn't try to speak to anyone on the bus the next morning.
The next few days were littered with strikeouts, as I continued with blinding and unrelenting enthusiasm.
Why was everyone suddenly so mean?
It wasn't until last night that I realized what I was doing. You remember when I said it takes .40 seconds for a fastball to reach homeplate? Well, not every pitch is a fastball. A pitcher has about 4 or 5 pitches than he can use to mix up the batter. If he throws a changeup, a pitch typically 10-20 mph slower than a fastball, it can take closer to .7 seconds to reach the plate.
(Again, for reference: Imagine seeing two pitches in a row from a pitcher. The first one is a fastball, and you have to start swinging before he lets go of it in order to hit it. The next pitch is a changeup, and if you employ the same strategy as with the previous pitch, you're gonna be a good hour early on your swing.)
So there I was, swinging for the fences, assuming everyone was a blazing fastball ready to be knocked out of the park. I was making as much eye contact as possible, leaning in, showing these people that I thought they were the most interesting beings to grace this planet. And I was missing by a mile.
Some people are changeups. You need to slow down your swing with them. Don't pierce their souls with eye contact, give them plenty of space, be more interested in the wall behind them than their story. I'm serious. I feel like I'm about 23 years late on this revelation, but not everyone is comfortable with enthusiasm.
So now I'm working on reading the pitch. Within the first seconds of meeting someone, I'm learning to gauge their desire for enthusiasm, their need for space, and their level of comfort with others. Sure enough, since trying this tactic, I've actually been able to bring people out of their shells.
Sometimes, just trying to make contact with a pitch is all you need to do for good things to happen.
************************************************************************************
I now want to tell a slightly amusing story that happened last night.
Last night, after my revelation in social psychology that probably 99% of people on Earth already knew about, I decided to try out my new tactic. My roommate and I were at a bar, and we decided to make up a completely ridiculous story about ourselves.
"Hey, where does everyone go on these nights?" Landon asked two women that were dressed strikingly similarly.
"I'm sorry what?" Said one of the girls in a tone that would have made you think someone had just asked her what book she was reading.
"We aren't from here." I said, while looking out the window inquisitively. "We are from Orlando."
"Oh! What are you guys doing here??" Said one of the girls.
Landon decided to go with a story that would be as believable as possible, so he said "We are going to Montreal....Canada."
Naturally, the girls asked "Why?"
"Oh for some Rugby tournament." (This quote is very vague, as I was unable to hear anything over the dueling pianos on stage behind us.)
"Oh that's cool!" said one of the conversationally elite ladies.
Apparently having just road-tripped from Orlando, stopping off in a random bar for the night, and heading out for Montreal to play in a rugby tournament didn't give these girls enough material to talk about, so after a moment of silence, Landon and I went on.
"Yeah I lived in Australia for a year (This part is actually true) and played Rugby there." said Landon.
More nodding of heads...silence..
I chimed in: "Yeah I didn't go to Australia but after graduation I headed over to Europe to join the peace corps."
Landon and I let it sit for a moment.
There was plenty to ask about at this point. The girls thought deeply for a moment on what to go with. After a few seconds, the girls had reached their decision.
"So.....yeah this place really is the best bar to be at on a night like tonight."
"Yeah it's crazy you wound up here! Because nowhere else is good on these nights."
Australia? Don't care.
Europe? Stupid.
Rugby? Yawn.
Canada? Boring. (Well, okay I'll give them that one.)
You came to a random bar in Raleigh? OMG TELL ME MORE.
Landon and I then spent the next 5 minutes trying to learn about the college they went to, while repeatedly incorrectly saying "NCSU" as the two ladies tried desperately to teach us the correct acronym. (Variations we blurted out included csu, scnu, uscns, ncsucnsuns, UNC, and even Duke.)
So that was the 'conversation' I had last night.
I guess some people just don't play baseball.
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