First Impressions

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Do first impressions count? The image of the person I meet for the first time seems to become lastingly printed on my mind. I’m sure you’ve heard people say, “I never forget a face,” or “Have we met before?” I don’t know why I feel first impressions count, but it’s worth considering, do you agree?

Some say, “I’m not too good with names, but I never forget a face.” Have you heard that before? It’s an odd thing to say when I think about it. It’s a kind of a slap-in- the-face to the other poor soul. Who may interpret it this way, “Your name didn’t mean much to me, but at least your face did.”

I mean, anyone who has attended a ‘How to make friends and influence people course’ knows that remembering a name makes a big impression on the person you meet, especially if the meeting took place a long while ago. Not so? Imagine that person thinking, “I must have made an impression on her; that was at Sally’s wedding – let me see, wasn’t that five years ago wow!”

Ah, where were we? Oh yes, I remember, first impressions. It’s interesting, though, now that I think of it, most of my first impressions of people have been wrong. Yes, and I’m being serious here – most of my first impressions have been misunderstood by me. And, by the way, I’m an absolute shocker at remembering names. But I had this engaging experience at a friend’s birthday bash a couple of years ago. I get to meet this chap, Jacob, a rather loudly spoken fellow, which means I heard him before meeting him. You know the type, boisterous and full of himself. My impression of him was not what I’d call top drawer. Two years later, I heard that voice at a wedding reception and turned to see its owner across the room; a strange thing happened. I remembered his face (and, of course, his voice) and his name – Jacob. Without further ado, I slipped onto the patio and joined a group of folks there to avoid meeting Jacob again.

Moments later (it seemed like seconds), I heard this voice, “I say, is this you, Phil?” I turned in horror as the mouth incarnate was making a hasty approach. “Hello, Jacob.” A squeaky sound found its way past my constricted throat.

“You remembered me, and after two years, not bad, eh?” Jacob was delighted.

“Yes, Jacob, I remembered your name and your voi.. I mean your face as well – a first for me, I might mention.”

 “Well done, old chap, I am impressed.”

If Jacob had heard my faux pas about his voice, he never showed it. He followed up with:

“Most people don’t remember my name or my face, only my voice,” and then he roared with laughter as a quick-witted response to my obvious embarrassment. We spent a fine evening together, and Jacob eventually became my best friend. He has, however, never let me forget my first impression of his ‘big mouth.’

I learned a valuable lesson from this experience, and since that time, I have worked hard never to judge a book by its cover until I have read all the lines inside the cover.