The Art of the Deflection

There I was, minding my own business, a full-time occupation for a man of my peculiar talents, when I crossed paths with a lady of no small repute. She crossed the street with a determination that suggested she was either on a mission from the heavens or simply late for an important date.

As fate would have it, she called me by name, her voice carrying across the cobblestones with a familiarity that suggested we were old chums, though I couldn’t for the life of me remember her name, she said. “Thank you for stopping, when the two ahead of you didn’t.”

Now, let me tell you, in a town where folks are more apt to tip their hats to a free-range horse than a fellow human, such a gesture is akin to sainthood. Later, as I found myself wrestling with a stubborn newspaper box—a contraption designed by the devil—she approached again.

With a twinkle in her eye, she called me by name again and said, “You’re a legend in Virginia City.”

Now, if there’s one thing I am as adept at as avoiding hard work, it’s avoiding compliments. Instead of expressing my gratitude for the kind words, I responded with the only thing I knew how: deflection.

“Are you sure that’s a good thing?” I asked, with the kind of expression that suggested I had just asked whether toadstools were good for soup.

She smiled politely—bless her patience—and turned, walking north along the boardwalk. And that, my dear friends, is how you cure people of paying you a compliment when they are uncomfortable things.

So, remember that when life hands you a compliment, and you’re unsure how to handle it, raise an eyebrow, ask a rhetorical question, and leave them pondering whether or not to compliment you again. After all, the small pleasures are what make life so delightfully complicated.