Let's not get emotional.

    Asperger's Syndrome is part of the autistic spectrum. It usually describes "high-functioning" folks who seem a little "off" in social situations. From time to time, I've suspected that I fall into this category, but there's never been a formal diagnosis.

    Yesterday I started thinking about it again. After nearly two months with the Census, canvassing some fairly dodgy areas, I finally came up against an enraged individual. Apparently I woke him up, even though his mom or wife (I never got the relationship straight) was the one who answered the door and spoke with me. He followed me out toward my car, wearing a pair of jeans and no shirt; demanded that I take back the form with the phone number and web address, and hurled an impressive array of "language" at me. I responded neutrally and got back in my car while he went back to his apartment and slammed the door.

    Then I worked on submitting my "case notes," with the doors locked and the engine running. Shortly thereafter, he tapped on the passenger window, now wearing a shirt. He apologized profusely (he thought I was a bill collector or something), allowed me to explain what the Census was all about, accepted the form back, and said "I'm very sorry" and "God bless you" as he walked back to his home again. I recorded this semi-favorable conclusion, though much later, I started wondering if perhaps this guy was just another domestic abuser, smoothing over the situation in an attempt to dissuade me from reporting him. I'm still mulling this.

    Anyway, when I got home, I related this episode to a close friend, more in an amused "here's the kind of day I had..." sense than in the "OMG, I coulda gotten killed" sense. My friend was shocked -- not at what the guy did, but at the way I reacted. She could not believe that I didn't go home shaking, resolving never again to venture forth among the unpredictable public.

    "You need to get a gun!" she immediately proclaimed. Nope, we're not allowed to carry weapons, not even pepper spray. Besides, I told her, if I had a gun, probably the first thing I'd do is manage to shoot one of my boobs off. A gun, and me -- two words that do not go together well, my Michelle.

    "Weren't you scared? There's something WRONG with you if you weren't!"

    But I wasn't. And it has nothing to do with being confident of my superpowers, or possessing ninja skills. I'm in my 60s, overweight, diabetic and embarrassingly sedentary and non-athletic. I have trouble getting out of my own way.

    But in line with this tentative self-diagnosis of mine, I'm becoming better acquainted with the best-known features of the syndrome. And one of the major ones is emotion -- or lack thereof. 

    And I think that, more than anything, is what can successfully carry me through a crisis situation.

    Because when things get fraught, I go into observer mode. In a standard social context, this is a very undesirable thing. People get upset and start crying -- especially if the upset was caused by me -- and I'm inclined to sit back and just look at them. Not being defensive, just detached. My thoughts run toward "Hmmm...tears. Face turning red. This happened after I said ___, so saying ___ is likely to produce this reaction in this person. Wonder if everyone would react that way, or just this person? This calls for more research." Sheldon Cooper, on The Big Bang Theory, is a classic exemplar. Maybe, once I finish cataloguing all these interesting physiological responses, I'll get around to making the connection that if I want to maintain a relationship with this person, I can apologize, or put my arms around them, or say something sweet -- all of which I am capable of, but the timing is usually way, way off, making a reconciliation just that much more difficult. And I rarely, if ever, intend to cause anyone an excess of emotion. It just happens, and it's not something I naturally relate to.

    If someone wants to see me get emotional, all they have to do is frustrate me. If I had walked away from that encounter and my clothing had gotten snagged in a fence, for example, that would have been a very emotional experience for me. I may never have gotten over it; it may have even made me hesitant to go back out on the job, as my friend suggested. My mind likes to proceed in an orderly fashion. Once I establish that I want to do something, I don't respond well to anything disrupting it.

    The angry shirtless man was, to me, just that. An angry, shirtless man with a potty mouth. I was busy noting what he said in between the f-bombs, looking for an opening. I said, "We just want to get everyone counted." He shouted "I don't give a f___ what  you want!" My response was "That sounds reasonable. Have a great day." As far as I was concerned, we were done and whatever he was having such an angry time about had nothing to do with me. I have dealt with plenty of people who don't want to complete a census questionnaire, and there are almost as many different reasons as there are people, so to me it's just another one for the "inactive" list. He is entitled to refuse. All I have to do is end the conversation and go on to the next one. Doesn't seem complicated to me. I wasn't exactly bored with the situation, but it had become irrelevant. 

    If I were a different type of person, I can imagine a different outcome if I'd started shaking or stammering, displaying obvious fear. I don't think it would have helped, and I suspect it could have landed me in serious trouble. Just as many dogs will attack if they see you trying to run away in fear, certain types of people will do that too. I have a feeling that my response threw him off. In what universe, he may have been thinking, does someone just say 'Have a great day' and walk away when I've just cussed them out? Especially a dumpy middle-aged woman like that? Wonder what's up? Has she got a gun? I'd better go and apologize or I could be in trouble here. Obviously, I know nothing about his thought processes. The way he put it to me, I woke him up and the first assumption was that I was one of those pesky bill collectors, come to make his life even more miserable than it already was. Which ... sounds reasonable. His apology sounded reasonable too. It's all in a day's work, and people are strange sometimes. My tendency to observe without judgment or reaction translates, I suppose, to what's commonly known as "keeping one's cool."

    And whether or not I actually do have Asperger's is of no consequence. The Federal government is an equal-opportunity employer and does not discriminate against anyone, even a weirdo like me.