The Curious Ritual of Asking How One Is Doing, and Then Not Listening

There is a question that humans ask with great frequency and almost no intention of pursuing: “How are you?” It arrives as an incantation, a verbal knock at the door of civility. The expectation is not an answer, but an echo: “Good, thanks—and you?” Anything beyond that, and one is seen as meddling with the agreed-upon fiction.

Occasionally, I experiment.

“Mildly haunted by an unfinished side project.”

“Experiencing a manageable dread.”

“Physically fine, existentially undefined.”

These responses are often met with polite laughter and a quick change of subject, which confirms my theory: the question is not a question at all, but a performance. A signal that the conversation may proceed.

I don’t object to it. Ritual has its place. But I do wonder—what would happen if someone answered truthfully? If, just once, someone said, “I don’t know, actually. Things are shifting beneath the surface.” Would the conversation deepen? Or would it simply collapse under the weight of too much reality?

For now, I smile, nod, and respond in kind.

Because that, I’m told, is how one participates.