“First impressions are always unreliable.” — Franz Kafka
A quote from Kafka on first impressions struck me this week because his novel The Metamorphosis required reading in college. It’s about a man who wakes up one morning with a completely new body: that of a “monstrous vermin,” which scholars have described as similar to a gigantic praying mantis.
While this quote tells us not to trust first impressions, I’ve seen a praying mantis exactly once. I didn’t know they chased away bad bugs and attracted good ones. I just wanted it out of my house. They still freak me out, so while first impressions may not be reliable, they stick with us even when we know better.
Who among us has not seen something or someone for the first time and formed an immediate opinion? For the open-minded, that opinion can change once they learn more, but I am not open-minded about bugs—I’m a bug bigot and probably always will be. I like my little bumblebee brooch, but if a real bee gets near me, I lose my mind.
Still, a first impression can be hard to overcome. Last week, a dog in my neighborhood either slipped its leash or escaped the yard and was wandering on the street, showing up in my yard. I didn’t notice, but two women who were out walking did, and they were trying to contact the owner and keep the dog from getting hurt. A neighbor called me and asked, “Why are there people and a dog on your lawn?” I went to check it out and likely left a pretty bad impression when I rounded the corner and barked, “Can I help you?”
It wasn’t the friendly kind of greeting you get in stores or restaurants, and I might as well have said, “Get off my lawn!” like the Boomer I am. Once I realized it was a poor lost pup, I definitely took it down a notch, but I fear these women were looking at me like I was Oscar the Grouch popping out of my trashcan to berate someone. It’s not the first time, either. It may come from being an Irish redhead, but I can go from zen to bent in under five seconds. There’s a description I can’t print here, so let’s call it “Resting Witch Face” because I need this gig.
If I’m working on a piece, or just doomscrolling through social media, shopping at the grocery store, or doing anything that requires concentration, my face appears to be that of a ticked-off raccoon. It’s a combination of a sneer and a stony stare, and I honestly don’t realize it when it happens. I didn’t get the names of these lovely women or the owner of the dog who came rushing up the street and was so thankful the dog was safe, but I hope they don’t still think I’m a cranky hot mess. I realized after they left that I was wearing most of the drippy taco I’d snarfed down at lunch on my shirt, and my socks didn’t match. I’m sure they thought I was just delightful.
In one of my college classes on journalism and media, the professor told us that first reports were always wrong. I’ve found that to be true, especially when it’s about a traumatic event like a bad accident, a fire, or a natural disaster. The drive to be first is strong in the news business, but it shouldn’t overshadow the drive to be accurate. Later reports are continually updated and are usually correct, but most people don’t finish the average news article, and once they’ve read or watched a news report, they move on, so they don’t see the updates. First impressions are like that, too. “Oh, her? I know her; she’s grumpy and territorial.”
I will try harder to not walk around acting like everyone’s head is an invitation to batting practice, but it will be a challenge for me. Just know that underneath my scowl is a much nicer person, I promise. And lost dogs and kind helpers are welcome on my lawn anytime.
Brenda Kelley Kim has lived in Marblehead for 50 years and is an author, freelance writer, and mother of three. Her column appears weekly.
