The Old Coot discovers a new twist to the ‘Goodbye Process’

The “Goodbye Process” was first named in a June 2009 Old Coot article. It was a process I’d witnessed for decades, but never knew what to call it. I described it using the following example; a man is at a party and he hears his wife say, “Are you ready to go,” he runs for his coat, blows a kiss to the host and hostess and heads for the car. Twenty minutes later he comes back inside, looking for his wife. 

“I thought you said we were going?” 

For him, goodbye is simple, say goodbye and go; for her, it’s a process, one that involves making the rounds with each person at the event, be it a small cocktail party or a large wedding reception. 

On the “goodbye” round, all the previous conversations are recapped and put into a state of suspension, allowing them to be revived at a future date. The husband tags along, adding nothing to the process. He resembles a five-year-old child tugging at his mother’s skirt on a shopping trip whining, “Can we go now? Can we go now?” (Men also initiate the goodbye process, but nowhere near as often as women, at least in my unscientific study of the phenomenon.) 

I’ve noticed a change in the process, making it even longer. Picture taking! At the very last second of the goodbye process, just when the husband (or the wife, sometimes) thinks it’s over, someone will say, “Oh! I forgot! Let me get a picture of you guys.” (Also, not a sexist statement; “guys” today means people, both men and women.) 

So now, the ten-minute goodbye process is extended, increased by 50% or more. A “picture” is not about to be taken, but rather, a series of pictures with different combinations of “guys” – with multiple cell phones put into action. Pose, pose, pose; snap, snap, snap.

Is that the end? Probably not. It often affords enough time for the “I forgot to tell you” topic, starting a whole new conversation. That’s okay with me, I’m in the car as soon as I hear those words, listening to a podcast. I know what to expect and come prepared. I’m no longer that 5-year-old child, tugging at my wife’s skirt. 

P.S. Comments from readers about the recent “string” article included using string, stretched between two tin cans to transmit sound, the game of cat’s cradle and a substitute for a fishing line and rod, wrapped around a notched block of wood with a sparkplug attached as a sinker. I’m sure there are more. If so, send to mlessler7@gmail.com.