I Ran Into Someone Who Doesn't Like Me

It was a fairly jarring experience.

This is a bit of a follow up to I Was Wrong About Friendship, which I published yesterday. You don’t need to read it to understand this one, but it probably helps!

The other day, I ran into a woman with whom I used to work about six years ago, on the same account management team at a big tech company. My understanding of our relationship was that she had forgotten I existed. I knew she lived in my neighborhood. I had seen her at the farmer’s market before, and I noticed that over the past six years she had acquired a husband, and a few years later, a baby. But we had never said hi to each other. I didn’t really want to talk to her (we had never been close) and I wondered if she even recognized me. I certainly didn’t feel strongly enough about her to push through multiple women in Aritzia TNA activewear sets waiting to buy parsnips to say hello.

But this time was different. I was sitting outside a park eating an early dinner with my 18-month-old while my husband played with our older child in the park. She was on her way out with her husband and baby. We made eye contact, and I realized we would have to acknowledge each other. Around this time, my husband emerged from the park with our older child and also said hello.

She wore tortoiseshell glasses and a forest green 1/4 zip sweat suit. I was wearing high-rise flare jeans and a ribbed long-sleeve tee. Her husband wore a casual navy vest of some sort, so I assumed he worked in finance. “We used to work together, right?” I asked. Maybe that was weird of me to say—of course we used to work together. But it would have been weirder to say, “I’ve seen you around town multiple times but didn’t care enough to say hi, but now I have to.”

I congratulated her on her new baby, and asked if she was still with the company (she was.) I asked her how her maternity had been. You know, the usual small talk. She didn’t ask me anything. Despite the fact that she was smiling, I could tell immediately that she did not want to talk to me. It wasn’t a “I’m in a rush, and I don’t have time to talk,” kind of vibe, but a “oh shit, I finally had to acknowledge this person I don’t want to talk to.” It occurred to me that since we live in the same area, she’d probably seen me many times and also didn’t make the effort to say hi—not because it would have been inconvenient, but because she…actually really disliked me. Quickly, she said, “Well, enjoy!” and ran off. She didn’t add, “you bitch” or anything, but I could tell she disliked me. My husband immediately asked me what the hell our deal was. “She certainly wasn’t a fan of yours,” he said.