On the line between curiosity and busy-bodyism

Curiosity is a good trait to have. As long as you’re curious in a way that isn’t annoying others too much, that is. For example, asking questions is great, but asking probing questions when you’ve just met someone isn’t the best idea, unless you’re a journalist or an interrogator in a highly controlled setting and it’s your job to ask such questions. I like asking questions, I can be like an interrogator, but I dislike when people ask me questions. You might be the same way, who knows.

There’s curiosity that respects boundaries and there’s curiosity that becomes gossip and busy-bodyism. Now, some people need to be kept at bay even if you’ve known them a long time. At the risk of sounding elitist, you can’t be friends with people from all social strata. Smart and cultured people understand that certain things and questions are off-limits when interacting with others, no matter how well you know them. Asking someone about their finances, for example, is a big no-no in many cultures, and it makes perfect sense to me. Why would you ask about your friend’s finances, let alone a total stranger’s? It’s none of your business, unless your friend brings it up or your friend is financially obligated to you in some way (debt, bet, promise, whatever).

An exception I can think of is when you’re making a ”how did you become a millionaire/billionaire” video and are asking successful people for guidance and advice, but that’s different.

Language gives us tools to keep people at bay in a conversation. For example, in most languages, you stick to more formal terms of address, honorifics, and so on. In Polish, for example, we say ”przechodzić na ty.” Be on a first-name basis with someone, basically. We ask for permission and the other side usually agrees. They can say no, of course, they don’t want to be ”na ty,” and then it gets awkward, but it’s really rare for someone to say no to being ”na ty,” because you usually ask after forming a relationship with that person and wait for the right moment.

English has – you – but the story of you is interesting in itself – going back centuries, you had different functions and levels of formality.

By sticking to more formal language, we signal to the other party that we’re unwilling to be friends with them, we’re just acquaintances, business partners, whoever. It’s not about being pompous. Some people need a reminder of their place because otherwise they’re going to shower you with intrusive questions, thinking you’re friends now, so why not?

Curiosity can grow over time. Maybe you’re a restaurant regular and waiters there, or the restaurant manager perhaps, start feeling as though you’re friends? You get asked all sorts of personal questions you have no wish to answer. You go there to eat, not to fraternize. Same at work, by the way. Do your job, get paid, and leave, stay out of office politics as much as possible without seeming dismissive.

Now, if you want to be friends with the restaurant manager, that’s great, but if you go to that restaurant to relax and have no wish to know anyone working there on a more personal level, that must be respected and a courteous reminder ought to be enough in a reputable establishment to keep their distance.

Indeed, if the manager, or the waiters, start getting too familiar with you, forgetting that you are the customer, then you either remind them of their place or don’t go there anymore. Maybe they are trying to honor you as the regular and that’s great, but honoring can quickly be used as an excuse to get to know you a little too much. Know your red lines, my friend, even in restaurants and similar places.

I agree with people who say that a sign of professionalism is knowing your place and never crossing a certain boundary, unless the other side clearly signals that you can or indeed, you’re expected to. If not, be friendly, but don’t get too friendly.

Curiosity goes hand-in-hand with comparison sometimes. We’re curious about someone because we want to assure ourselves we’re better off, more fortunate, than someone else. It’s what I call caustic curiosity. Constant comparison, everything is a competition.

Sometimes, when laughing at others, secretly or openly, it’s good to see where we stand in life, too, because we’re not immune to judgment (be it corporeal or divine) and life lessons. For example, while it’s understandable to revel in someone’s ridiculous hell, such as a Z-patriot forced to play Ukrainian songs on a violin, my mind conjured up an unnervingly curious conversation I had with a Chinese psychic I offended by calling her fake.

She said that I’d end up in hell, and get turned into a Jewish girl dancing cha-cha-cha and forced to speak Hebrew. I laughed and told her cha-cha-cha wasn’t my thing and she told me to start learning, then, and be grateful it’s not fire and brimstone. Sense of humor (hopefully just that, horror Hebrew hell is no fun, I doubt God would come up with such a fate for anyone) is a good way to disarm caustic curiosity as I call it. You take the other side’s power away with a laugh.