Guess who? Jackie's who.
Be a fool for, you know, connection
When he walked up to my table, I assumed he was just a coffee shop patron, curious about the book signing going on in the corner. He had very long, dark hair in I think braids or a ponytail, and I think the shirt visible under his unzipped puffy jacket was a striped sports jersey of some sort. I also think I’d be a lousy crime witness.
With the kind of smile you give a stranger you’re happy to meet, I introduced myself. “Hi, I’m Emily.” He responded warmly with his name which sounded an awful lot like Shanker. That was immediately followed by, “I’m Jackie’s friend,” insinuating that I KNOW JACKIE. I DO NOT KNOW JACKIE. One of the two Jackies I know lives in Indiana and we’re not close. The other one is married to my cousin Kirk, is a busy mom of a darling toddler, and didn’t know about my signing.
“Who the heck is this Jackie sending people to my book signing?” was racing through my head even while I continued to act friendly. I wasn’t remotely complaining about Shanker’s attendance or Jackie’s referral; it was just unsettling not to connect the dots.
My brain was on a mission to rectify this. It was probably only once or twice, but it felt like seven times that I asked some variation of, “So, you said you’re friends with Jackie?” Yes, definitely Jackie. He even said her last name. That helped not at all.
“So, how do you know Jackie?” seemed like a smart next question. And it would’ve been, except I had never heard of the organization she runs. His Buddhist wrist beads seemed to be working, and this man was remarkably patient with me—even if he was probably thinking, “How did this mentally slow woman ever publish a book?!”
To add to the awkwardness of the situation, I had sold out of copies of Dear Fellow Dreamer, the book the signing was being held for. Apologetically, I delivered the bad news with the following commentary running through my mind: “Not only do I NOT know Jackie, but I ALSO don’t have the book you came here to get…I’m so sorry for being a grave disappointment today.”
Trying to salvage this ill-fated relationship, I pulled out a few copies of my first book, Dear Fellow Spender, and offered to sign one as a consolation prize. His response was unexpected, and cool. With a meaningful pause, he looked at the bright yellow cover and subtitle and said, “That is actually the book I need” he said. “The Universe really knows what we need.”
In the face of this beautiful honestly, I couldn’t pretend any longer. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know who Jackie is.” Finally, the truth.
For the last time, he repeated the name of the group through which he knows Jackie, and something clicked. “Oh!” I exclaimed. “I wonder if she knows Karin!” Ignoring all social decorum for the sake of solving this awkward mystery, I hollered at Karin who was engaged in conversation. “Hey Karin! Do you know Jackie?” SWEET RELIEF, she did. “Jackie Chinooga?” she said, except she used Jackie’s real last name which I never caught. Connections finally made, smiles and laughter exchanged, and all awkwardness now blown out of the way, I got around to signing his copy of Spender.
“When I asked how to spell his name, he responded with, “It’s exactly what it sounds like, like you’re shanking someone. S-H-A-N-K-E-R.” This was accompanied by a motion like I assume one would apparently use to shank someone. It’s an assumption since, not only have I never written the word “shank,” I’ve also never shanked a person.
The morning of the book signing, Karin had the thought to post about it in a Facebook group run by none other than the now-famous Jackie. You know Jackie, right? Shanker was in town from Dallas, saw the announcement, and swung by for it. Random? Yes. Cool? Totally. When he finally left the signing, he and Karin and I all parted as new friends with warm hugs.
And to think, I almost missed out on this whole story and the spontaneous connections by pretending. Would it have made me a dishonest person to simply nod along to every mention of Jackie? Nope. But Shanker and I and Karin AND JACKIE would’ve missed out on the connection that was meant to happen that day, what with the Universe and all.
Addressing the elephant in the room makes everyone much more comfortable in said room. Be willing to look dumb. Be willing to at least eventually say when you can’t remember someone’s name. Or when you don’t know something or someone. And never forget that it’s entirely possible to successfully gate crash any social event with a made-up name of a supposed mutual acquaintance. Jackie Chinooga seems as good as any other name we might use.
Isn’t life cool and aren’t people interesting? Especially that Jackie… See you in the next one…
P.S. Having now done four signings across my two books, I’ve learned some stuff about holding them. For paid subscribers, below are my recommendations for the launches/signings you could (will!) be holding for your very own books.