FOMO

fffn FOMFOMO: Fear Of Missing Out, today’s topic.

1. FOMO: Fear of Missing Out.
2. I am English, living in Germany.
3. I am a redhead.
4. I like reading history books.  Currently I am reading this book: https://www.amazon.de/Red-Famine-Stalins-War-Ukraine/dp/0385538855

Now, to my question: Who is the pastoral case here?

Yesterday, on my way to a presentation at the German-British Society, I stopped off at a fast-food restaurant to eat and surf the net on my mobile, switching my brain off from a long day on the phone.  The restaurant was full, to be expected at 17:00.  I sat opposite a man, sitting on his own, who was surfing on his mobile.

I started to eat my meal, minding my own business, something I generally do at the end of a long day, to de-compress.  Our man opposite me thrust his mobile in front of me.

"Is this [12.000€] twelve-thousand Euros, or one-thousand two hundred?"

Twelve-thousand.

NB: no eye contact from me.  I carried on eating my dinner and surfing on my mobile.

"You are Irish?"

No.

"You are shottish [sic]?"

No.

"You are red."

Luckily, the people sitting two tables away got up and left the restaurant.  I sighed, clearly irritated, got up, picked up my tray and sat down at the other table.  Our man opposite me seemed offended at me walking away.

Is this a case of FOMO? “I’m bored, therefore I will try to talk at you to alleviate my boredom, regardless of whether you want to be left in peace and quiet.”

Is this a German thing?  When showering at work after cycling to the office, I’ve had colleagues asking me:

"Hey, aren’t you that English guy from that insurance project?  Tell me more about…"

(Yes, but least let me wash my shower gel off my %$§/ bits first.)

I’ve had the same, reading my book in the café.

"Hey… is that a history book?  Is it any good?  Who’s the author?  [Cue unsolicited opinion about war in Ukraine, and warfare in general.]"

(To quote my former line manager, Tony, opinions are like a$$h0les: everybody has one.)

My former friend, Green Leader, was always in the habit of trying to strike up a conversation with any woman minding her own business in a pub or café, either eating her lunch in peace, or reading a book.  I have lost count of the number of times I have had to tell him:

"I think the lady wants to be left in peace.  If she wanted to speak to you, she would initiate the conversation."

Roll back to a rainy July day in 1994 in York.  My very good friend, CMac, and I were enjoying lunch in a quiet pub, discussing conflict in Northern Ireland and the ongoing war in ex-Yugoslavia.  (CMac was a soldier; as part of my degree, I have studied the history of the Balkans, including the Battle of Kosovo 1389, the Ustashe and post-Tito Death of Yugoslavia.)  Two tables away from us was an armchair general, who butted in with his unsolicited opinion on nuking Belfast and assassinating Milosevic.  CMac and I rolled our eyes, sighed, and ignored the “general.” 

As the Chileans say:

If you have nothing to say, go and say it elsewhere.

TL;DR: alone ≠ lonely.  Is that so difficult a concept to understand?

Long live minding your own business!