The End Of The Awkward Handshake
by Kama Linden
I was once at an H.R. meeting at the gym where I worked for over 20 years. The H.R. manager, who was female, had called us in to tell us one by one that we were having our classes cut due to “budget constraints”. However, I did shake her hand at the start of the meeting, and she commented how I had a very professional, firm, handshake, even going through the process to detail in replay how I stepped forward with one foot, looked her in the eye, and gave her a firm grasp.
The “handshake” has long been an attribute that supposedly told a lot about a person: a FIRM handshake meant that you were trustworthy. A WEAK handshake meant that you were not to be trusted or had a “weak” disposition. Turning your hand on top of the person whose hand you were shaking meant that you were trying to pull one over on that person, such as when my “business partner” eventually swindled me out of a good portion of my life savings in a “vacation rental” business.
I am a guitar player. I am a singer-songwriter. I had fallen on the ice in 2015 because the MTA decided not to take me to the last stop on the D train on an icy night in March (The MTA often kicks us out at Bedford Park, instead of continuing on to East 205, just because, or because of “train delays” that are not our fault, but we have to suffer for). The choice was to wait another 20–30 minutes to go one stop, or just walk home, downhill. It had been a nice day, so I was not wearing my boots, but unfortunately, went down to freezing that night. The walk from Bedford Park station to my home in Norwood is mostly downhill. A catalyst for the fall that I took as I turned to corner from Bedford Park onto Van Cortlandt. I fell, and my 4th and 5th fingers on my right hand were both bleeding and disjointed. I started crying. My fingers were broken! A man wheeling by in a wheelchair asked if I was alright. Seeing him in the wheelchair, asking ME if I was alright, made me stop crying and get up, as it obviously could have been a lot worse.
My fingers, thankfully, were NOT broken, but sprained, and the tendons on my 4th finger especially had torn. I had to go to physical therapy for my hand for about 8 weeks. I wore splints, and then small “finger sleeves”. I had to do exercises with putty, as well as a “Digi-flex”.
My fingers would heal, and then someone, (usually male, and very large) would shake my hand, go for my FINGERS instead of the meat of my hand, and re-injure me all over again.
As a real estate agent, I dreaded going to closings (well, I did like going for my check, of course), as the LAWYERS and the BANK AGENTS tended to be large males, who would squeeze my hand to death, again, re-igniting my injury that took so long to heal. Even new customers. I had a very large male destroy my fingers, and he ended up failing the co-op board, so the pain was for nothing. Even an overzealous, tall, thin male outside of a music venue where I played felt the need to “squeeze my fingers” vs. shake my hand properly, and I had to go home and ice my hand.
I started wearing my splint to closings, even when I was not in pain, just for protection, and an excuse to not get hurt again.
I have also gotten ill because of a handshake. At my temple, you are supposed to shake hands every time someone goes up for an “Aliyah”, which is doing a prayer, song, speech, portion of the Torah, etc. As I am a singer, and my Hebrew lessons paid off, I often will go up to the Bimah and do “Aleinu”, or “Barchu”, or read a portion of Jonah on Yom Kippur. I try to do the “double wave” as I quickly walk down the aisle, as once, a woman with a wet tissue in her hand, shook my hand, and I caught whatever cold or illness she had, taking my voice out for a week.
The congregants would make fun of me, but they knew I was being a germaphobe, and not ill-hearted. I would hug the congregants that I knew well, and one would do the “elbow rub” with me, as we were good friends.
At the beginning of Covid19, we were now being told “not to shake hands”, hug, or make human contact, if possible. Friends I knew would rub elbows with me, or do the “hackey sack” foot touch. I was fine with this. My right hand would be safe from harm. However, one of my real estate buyers did not get the memo, and even though he and his wife had just returned from Albania, he insisted on shaking my hand. This was the first weekend in March. Needless to say, there was no way to sneak into the bathroom of the co-op I was showing, and attempt to wash my hands, so I had to wait about an hour to find a Starbucks to use a bathroom and wash my hands properly. He also did not qualify for the apartment, to boot!
Now we are having Shabbat services on Zoom, and I have been furloughed from teaching fitness, all of my film/tv jobs, and real estate. At some point, I am going to have to look for work. Although I have had some “job interviews” on the phone, as well as Zoom, chances are I will not be forced to shake someone’s hand anytime soon. Covid19 may have finally ended the tradition of, “Let’s Shake On It”. I guess we will have to figure out some other way to both greet and analyze each other, as well as seal the deal.
Kama Linden is a singer-songwriter with 4 studio albums, the newest being, “Everything In Good Time”, releasing in Summer 2020. She is also an actress, fitness instructor, freelance photographer, and has a fitness book: “Healthy Things You Can Do In Front Of The TV”.
