I recently went to a dinner event. People were dressed nicely and the atmosphere was collegial and warm: good conversation, friendly greetings and firm handshakes. Wait, did I say firm handshakes?
There was one handshake that went well beyond firm. Vise-like is closer to it. It happened when I shook hands with an athletic-looking guy who looked like he could have once been a collegiate linebacker. And he had the hands to match.
When we were introduced, I extended my hand and he squeezed it like he was trying to crack a walnut. My fingers were mushed together like a bunch of asparagus. I actually exclaimed, “Ow!” and withdrew my hand pronto. But it was too late. It. Hurt. And it hurt for the next few days.
It made me feel sorry for politicians who have to shake hands a lot more than the rest of us and reminded me that Cindy McCain got a hand injury on the campaign trail from shaking hands.
Other than his torturous handshake, the “linebacker” seemed like a perfectly nice guy; I can’t imagine that he’d give a woman his death grip, too. But maybe I’d better warn Cindy McCain anyway. If she ever sees a linebacker coming at her, better have John run interference.