One of my little problems in life is that I find it quite difficult to recognize people. I don’t mean that old chestnut about ‘I know the face, but I can’t put a name to it.’ It takes me longer than most people, having seen a face, to decide if I know them and who it is. My wife is always saying ‘why didn’t you acknowledge X’, to which I sheepishly (or possible goat-sheep spectrumishly) reply ‘oh, was that X?’
I’ve just noticed a particularly unfortunate aspect of this. I was in our village post office this morning and turned from the counter to leave. Two people had come into the shop. Now it’s a small enough village that I often see someone I know in the post office, but I knew I wouldn’t recognize them quickly enough to avoid an initial blank gaze, so I put on my best ‘hello friend, well met’ smile to realize it was two perfect strangers. One smiled back, rather uncertainly.
Either they think our village is highly in-bred, or we’re jolly happy people (which I suppose isn’t too bad a thing). But I really must develop a cunning technique to be able to spot people before they realize I’ve seen them. Perhaps wearing shades at all times would help. Or just sitting in a darkened room…
I have precisely the same problem, and am always being chastized by my wife for the same infraction. Perhaps it’s a guy thing?
There is an old story about Benjamin Disraeli, who was famous for remembering everyone he met, and being able to engage even slight acquaintances in conversation. He was once asked whether, on meeting someone, he could not bring their name to mind, and if so, what he did about it. The great man reputedly answered “When I meet a man whose name I can’t remember, I give myself two minutes; then, if it is a hopeless case, I aways say, And how is the old complaint?”