“Rain check?” texted the American I was supposed to go on a date with.

So I checked.

I walked to the window, looked at the sky, and replied, “Seems like it’s clearing up.” It had poured that afternoon. He’d said he was stuck at work. I assumed the weather was another concern.

I was in my early 20’s, newly arrived in the U.S., and working at a young media company. Everyone was Brooklyn cool: wearing Birks before they were a thing, arriving on vintage bikes, dressed in thrifted clothes and carrying totes with indie logos. We were making vairous docu-series about sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll. I had never done drugs and was quietly trying to work out what anyone was talking about.

Between the production terminology and the office shorthand, entire emails felt like tests I hadn’t studied for. At the end of week one, while I was still finding my way around the office full of edit suites, an email arrived from my boss: ‘I’m OOO.’ Nothing else. What the fuck was OOO? Was it the US version of our oh-oh? As in something was wrong? Was I supposed to do something?

Too embarrassed to ask my cool colleagues about what might be an industry term everyone else knew, I spent a few hours waiting for a follow-up email with instructions. It never arrived. Then came EOD. Had someone named E overdosed? And this was how they were telling us?! Considering where I worked, it didn’t seem entirely out of the question. WFH. GTG. ASAP. FYI. LMK. BRB. I spoke English, but nobody had told me I’d have to learn Morse code.

More letters. Everyone seemed delighted about TGIF, so I joined in. Whatever we were celebrating, I supported it. Even the questions were confusing. Someone would pass me in the office and say, “How are you?” I’d stop, ready to tell them about the insane ramen spot I’d found the night before and ask how they were doing. By then, they’d already disappeared down the corridor. Apparently, this particular question required neither an answer nor a stationary listener. 

I get it. We Italians are prolissi: we can take ten minutes to explain something that needed one. Our “come stai?” becomes a pausa caffè, and arranging a call can require an email thread that reads like the opening of a nineteenth-century novel. There’s something to be said for getting to the point.

But you Americans—even ‘How are you?’ has to be efficient? Surely there’s a middle ground between telling your colleague your entire life story and asking how they are without breaking stride.

You don’t have to stay for a coffee. Just stay for the answer.

And if you need to cancel a date, just say so! Otherwise, I’m going to check the weather.