LANG

Ad-lib or Stick To The Script



Ad-lib-remark made spontaneously without prior preparation.

Script-to arrange, direct or control.

In every conversation, casual or formal, there are virtual scripts to set or maintain the mood. Especially important in diverse settings, they are to help us get along with each other. 

Life's scripts are written, and constantly edited by worldly events. Nonetheless, perceptions vary like snowflake patterns, so the scripts don't always work. Besides that, we sometimes go blank, or are not well read.  So, we ad-lib intentionally to redirect the conversation, or due to inexperience in not knowing something thoughtful to say.

Sticking to the script is mostly thought to be safer than ad-libbing. Though there are those situations, where the scripted response comes across too cold, or presumptuous. Thus, ad-libbing showing a more genuine attempt at polite engagement.

As you read or listen to the various situations posted here, decide for yourself which is the more appropriate route; ad-libbing or sticking to the script.



HEADED TO THE CAFE

In 2016 on a late July afternoon in the U.S. southwest, a young African American woman visits a nearby community shopping center. The woman experiences the attention of a middle aged white man, and an African American man in his early senior years. Naming them descriptively in regard to their ethnicity and gender, the three will be referred to respectively as Afra, Euro and Afri.

Afra, having decided to work away from home, is headed to the cafe for chilled herbal tea and free wi-fi.  A runner and yogi, her early A.M. push was recovered by a green smoothie. The spinach and fruit concoction homemade with seeds and spices, had a refreshing effect that still glimmered in her brown eyes.  Afra felt good.

Where she lived the weather ranges were set by two different groups, the natives and the northern transplants. The native’s thermometer settings were chilly, warm, and hot. The northern transplant’s thermometer settings were chilly, hot and hell.  Today, in respect to the latter, it was ten or so points from the hell degree. Thus, Afra, a northern transplant, wasn’t too surprised to see people, she guessed to be natives, seated at the umbrella fitted tables outside the café. Afra, however, had left her air conditioned home for her air conditioned car, and had no intention of breaking the pattern. After parking, she heads toward her afternoon experience of going to the cafe to work.

Afra enters the café and is greeted by an employee.

“Hello.”

“Hi.” She smiles, then looks away to assess the amount of people and available tables near an outlet.  Seeing good a ratio, she decides to stay. In that quick assessment, she’d also noticed Afri’s interest. He stood out because of his curious eyes, and his position at her ideal table.

Afra wanting a snack before settling in, turns to leave. She's headed a few doors down to the grocery store, because she also noticed the unappetizing baked goods in the café’s glass pantry.

She’s a regular at the grocery store, so is quickly in and out with a pack of her favorite whole grain muffins. She also grabs a bottled water. Exiting the store, she sees Euro at one of the outdoor fruit tables. Afra also notices Afri, he’s coming from a small sedan parked in front of the store, near the fruit table where stands Euro.

Afra heads back to the café. She notices Afri has slowed his pace, either to allow her to catch up with him, so they may re-enter the café together, or so that he may enjoy the view as she passes him. His dark eyes afire with interest, are kind and respectful, so Afra doesn’t mind his staring. She has a casual appreciation for his attraction to her.

Euro intently knocking on watermelons, straightens appearing a bit embarrassed when Afra reaches arm distance of him. He smiles wide at her and laughs as she passes him. By this time, Afra has just began to pass Afri, who on the sidewalk is still near the fruit table. Afra, not slowing her pace to the café, nods at Afri while joining Euro in laughter.

“Do you know how to knock on watermelons?” Euro asked her.

Afri now looked ready to scream. His face was of 2016 shock and disgust. It read, “No, this white man didn’t ask this sista, if she knew how to knock on watermelons!”

Afra turns briefly smiling, “No.”

“Me neither.” Laughed Euro, as he turned back to his task of picking a good watermelon.

Afri’s face didn’t change.

Euro’s pre-written dialogue, his script, is well noted in how to avoid conversations about watermelons, when initiating conversation with African Americans. Euro's ad-lib disturbed Afri, yet not Afra, with whom he shared the interaction.