On She Sheds, Playing Catch, and Talking with Strangers

“Well, it finally happened, Zachary. Somebody burned down my she shed.” 

“Nobody burned down your she shed, Cheryl…”

You know the commercial. If you don’t, I’m afraid to say you might live under a rock. Besides being played countless times on TV, the State Farm commercial has scored over a million YouTube views. “Cheryl’s she shed” has come up in everyday conversations in my vicinity no less than four times in the past couple of months. I know, because the first time it came up left quite an impression on me. I’ve been keeping track ever since. 

Each time it’s mentioned, everyone smiles and someone inevitably says, “I love that commercial!” 

My obsession with Cheryl’s she shed started at my local Ford dealer’s. I was sitting in the waiting room waiting for my car to be washed. 

Although there were others in the room–a couple, a single lady, and a single man, all a bit older than me–no one was talking except the couple, who spoke quietly to each other. Like typical strangers, we kept to ourselves. We watched the T.V. which was tuned to some random game show and we stared at our phones, each intentionally ignoring the others’ presence. 

I was scrolling through Facebook when I heard a rather loud, obnoxious ringtone. I glanced up. Then looked back down.

“Hello?” I heard the single man say. I proceeded to block out his conversation, which of course was none of my business. Until he said these words:

“Did you look in the she shed?”

I looked up. I couldn’t help myself. 

I smiled. Again, I couldn’t help myself. 

The other three people in the waiting room were also smiling and chuckling to themselves. The man on the phone, who resembled Cheryl’s husband Victor, was smiling too. 

When he hung up the phone the couple asked him about this “she shed.” We all listened.

“My wife planted flowers around my shed, and I told her, ‘your she shed looks real purdy!’” We all laughed out loud. 

At least one of us said, “I love that commercial. I laugh every time!” Heads nodded. No disagreement there. The ice had been broken. More conversation ensued. Eye contact all around. Like old friends, we were shootin’ the breeze. And all because of Cheryl’s she shed. 

***

I recently listened to a podcast episode of NPR’s “The Hidden Brain,” with Shankar Vedantam. It explored how American masculinity creates lonely men. Since I have three adult males in my family, I found the story both interesting and disturbing. (If you are, or know, an American male, I highly recommend you listen to or read the story.)

I was especially interested however, in a study they discussed that did not specifically deal with males, but with both men and women. 

Nick Epley, a behavioral science professor at the University of Chicago and his co-author, Juliana Schroeder, studied the way people ignored each other when standing or sitting side by side on a train or metro. They assigned participants to three different conditions on their commute. One was to engage with people around them, another was to sit in solitude, and the third was to act as they normally do on their commute.

Although the volunteers predicted “they would be least happy if they had to engage with other people on the train…[and] happy [if] simply left alone...that’s not what the study found.” Epley stated, “People reported being happier, less sad and having a more pleasant commute when they connected with the person sitting next to them, than when we randomly assigned them to a condition where they were asked to sit in solitude.”

In addition, Epley found people’s perceptions of fellow commuters to also be incorrect. Participants estimated fewer than 50 percent of people would want to engage in conversation with them, when the actual number was much closer to 100 percent.

***

It’s true that having a conversation is a two-way street. There are also two important ingredients. First, someone needs to initiate the conversation. Then, the other person responds with a comment or question. 

As a Speech-Langauge Pathologist who teaches students struggling with social communication, I often use the analogy of a game of catch. Conversation is like tossing a ball back and forth. If anyone holds the ball too long or doesn’t throw the ball back, the game will stop. And if no one throws the ball to begin with, there is no game. There is no fun.

Epley stated “It's not that people anticipate that having a conversation, once it gets going, will be unpleasant. They think that'll be OK. Instead, the barrier seems to come earlier. There's anxiety about actually starting the conversation…” This anxiety leads to the belief that talking to strangers is an unpleasant experience. 

Which brings me back to my waiting room at the Ford dealership. No one meant to start the conversation. It more-or-less happened by accident. (Thanks to Cheryl’s she shed!) But once that initial ball was tossed into the room, someone had to catch it. We couldn’t help it...we wanted to play!

***

Our conversation continued. The men discussed the 1966 Lincoln Continental on the showroom floor. “You know, Kennedy got shot in a ‘64,” the man who I’ll now refer to as ‘Victor’ said. This man knew his history. And his cars. 

The discussion continued around which Lincoln models had suicide doors and how they were bringing them back again. I politely listened, having nothing intelligent to add to this conversation. But my eyes were no longer glued to my phone. I was engaged, as was everyone else in the room.

The receptionist walked up and jingled my keys, asking who had the Ford Edge. I hated to leave the party, but spoke up, “It’s mine.” 

‘Victor’ laughed and said, “Good thing you said something, young lady,” (I love to be called young lady) “or one of us woulda’ drove off with it!”

I laughed and said something playful in return before going on my way. 

Driving off in my clean car, I committed to being the first one to speak the next time I’m with a stranger. Maybe I’ll compliment their cute shoes or well-behaved children. Perhaps I’ll comment on a big news story (avoiding politics, of course). Living in southwest Michigan, the weather is always a good way to break the ice (because there is literally ice much of the year around here!).  

And...if I can’t think of anything to say, I’ll just pretend to get a phone call and say, “Did you look in the she shed?” 

That’ll get ‘em every time.