By Todd Schoepflin

There I was, sitting on a bar stool, having a beer and
shooting the breeze with my brother-in-law Jim, and watching people bowl
together. I don’t get out much, so it was eventful just to hang out at a
bowling alley for a few hours. But a surprising interaction occurred that night.
A woman, who appeared to be drunk, touched my face as she walked by me and said
something about my eyes that I think was intended as a compliment.

I was confused. We have norms about violating personal
space. If a sociology referee had been witness to this interaction, the referee
likely would have thrown a flag and penalized the woman for touching my face. The
picture illustrates the way she touched me (it’s not a photograph of the
actual
moment). Although it was weird for a stranger to touch my face, it didn’t
bother me very much. I am still trying to sort out why. To experience the
interaction only as a minor act of rudeness: is this my male privilege at work?
In contrast, how does it feel to a woman when she is touched by a man in public
space? What does it mean to her? I pose that question with the bigger picture
of sexism in mind and with recognition that experiences
of harassment and sexual assault are common for women.

A month later, I went to a bar with my wife, Tina, to visit
friends. As we walked from the parking lot to the entrance, we saw a man
gesturing wildly and screaming about a cab that supposedly deserted him. I did
my best to define the situation—“What the hell is going on here?” is all I
could think—and wondered if trouble was brewing. It was only 7:00 in the
evening, a time when I generally do not expect shenanigans. But when a person
is inebriated, the time of day doesn’t matter. When people are drunk, stuff
happens.

The guy made his way back into the bar as Tina and I trailed
behind. We walked slowly so we wouldn’t cross his path. We found our friends at
the bar. As bad luck would have it, the wild man was standing next to our
friends. He calmly ordered another drink and explained to a bartender that he
missed his cab. Suddenly this guy was relatively composed. So what in the world
happened outside a few minutes before? Was it some kind of a show? I don’t
know, but I do know his motor skills were compromised. When he left the bar a
few minutes later, he knocked over a drink that made a huge mess in front of
another guy at the bar. Some of the beer spilled on the man who was minding his
own business. I zeroed in on the man’s reaction. He was cool, and let it go. He
kept his emotions in check. I should have thanked him for doing his part to
maintain order. One wonders how many bar fights are avoided when customers like
him keep calm and carry on.

Well, I don’t spend all my free time in a bar. I only make
it out about once a month for a few cold ones. I spend much more of my life at
grocery stores. The interaction I mention next took place in the café section
of a supermarket (all the interactions I describe in this piece occurred within
the last six weeks). I got in line behind a few folks and waited my turn to
order a coffee and bagel. The people ahead of me in line were all store employees.
Another employee showed up and cut in front of me. I am small, but she had to
have seen me. True, human beings are imperfect and perhaps prone to being
oblivious, but “C’mon, for real, did you
just cut in front of me?” I said no such thing out loud. Although getting
cut offends my sensibilities and departs from proper etiquette, it’s something
I can live with, especially when I’m not in a hurry. The woman took forever to
purchase her coffee and continued to occupy counter space while putting a lid
on her cup. I fidgeted and impatiently waited to be acknowledged by the person
behind the counter.

Finally, I got a chance to place my order. Before I could
pay, another employee jumped in and told his co-worker not to charge me. It
turns out he saw what transpired. He noticed I had been cut, commented that it
was rude, and praised me for not drawing attention to the situation. It was
nice to be recognized in such a way. It was a form of respect, and it felt
good. I wonder, was this simply an odd incident, a one in a thousand event? Or
was it something about me—a white
person dressed in a way that suggests being middle-class—that impacted the
outcome? Had I experienced white privilege
and/or class
privilege?

Later that morning, I tweeted about what happened and
mentioned the name of the store in my tweet. I quickly got a reply from the
grocery store’s Twitter account—whoever wrote the message apologized, requested
the store location, and asked if I caught the employee’s name. I didn’t reply. Not
knowing how specific information would have been used, I wasn’t comfortable
providing answers.

I’m sure I’m not the only person who reflects on encounters
and interactions. What are some recent interactions that stand out to you? Why
do you consider them remarkable? Can you contemplate them from a sociological
perspective?