She wouldn’t let go.
After sitting down and being introduced to everyone at the table, I reached out my hand towards her. She told me her name and that she was the director of one of the freshman halls on campus. She began to shake my hand. I told her that I worked in admissions. It was the end of my first week.
The waiter brought out everybody’s drinks. I ordered a whiskey (neat, of course) and realized that she was still shaking my hand. I wasn’t sure what to do. This was certainly the longest handshake I had ever engaged in.
She kept on. Nobody else seemed to notice. She asked me another question. I didn’t hear it, so I mumbled a vague response.
Finally, I wrenched my now extremely sweaty hand away, wiping away the accumulated moisture on the dinner napkin sitting in my lap.
I asked her if she liked her job.
She told me that I had lasted the second longest of anyone she’d ever shook hands with.
The table erupted in laughter, and I relaxed for the first time since sitting down. She informed me that she never stops shaking hands when she meets someone new. I had made it 79 seconds—4 seconds short of the record.
My whiskey arrived, thank God. I laughed with my new coworkers as they reenacted my never-ending handshake. Apparently, I was the strange one for holding on that long. She glanced up from her menu and winked at me.
I counted to 9—the number of legitimately quirky people I had met during my first week of work at the university. Sitting back in my chair and glancing at the menu myself, I decided to settle into a new normal.
I could work with quirky.