![]() Maybe it’s the British ancestry, or maybe it’s just the vast distances we have to traverse in our lives, but we’re not one to waste words. ![]() Australian’s keep their heads down and their thoughts to themselves. Here’s the thing about being a born-and-bred Australian, whose genetic makeup is 50% American: life is confusing. It doesn’t distract from your awesomeness. The worst case scenario is that the barista rolls their eyes in response. It’s a small opening, but it’s important. A moment for the barista to quip in response, or simply smile. Respond ‘Well that’s a small price to be human again!’īy just adding one line of dialogue to your interaction, you’ve created a social opening.That doesn’t ‘suck’, but it’s not an awesome interaction either. Riggle’s example of a social opening is simple – ordering a coffee. ![]() But Riggle’s book opened up a whole world of possibilities that I hadn’t considered: social openings or, in his lingo, opportunities for awesomeness. I, like most capital-city dwelling sheeple, know how to line up, how to efficiently order a coffee, how to politely greet a bus driver. That’s a universal experience.īut as soon as I interact with another human being, I have not thought about the choices that follow those interactions. I choose whether to go for a run or snooze my alarm, I choose whether to have toast or cereal for breakfast, I choose my (hopefully tasteful) office-attire and whether to wear the impractical pumps or the comfy crocs. ![]() Up until reading Riggle’s book, I viewed each day of a series of choices. ![]()
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