Resting Bitch Face—I first heard this four or five years ago. My blogger friend Robyn used the term, talking about herself. She didn’t use the RBF acronym; she used the whole phrase. Thank God she did. I think that’s the last time I ever heard anyone say it. Just in time too. Ever since, and I must say quite frequently, people are all RBF this and RBF that. I would have run into countless awkward scenarios where I nod along pretending I know what someone is talking about even though I really have no idea.
Sorry, look at me, I assumed you also know what I’m talking about. Resting Bitch Face is the propensity to hold your neutral, unanimated face looking like you’re about to go Karen on someone. A perpetual frown, maybe a sneer, certainly a scowl. The sort of face others don’t want to approach for fear of attack.
Years ago, when companies were just starting to cobble together rudimentary websites as marketing tools, a part time employee named Kristen volunteered to maintain my company’s website. I didn’t know Kristen yet. I had never seen her before. She met in an open area with two of my coworkers listening to their website requirements. As they talked, she held a light smile with her mouth and eyes. When they finished and Kristen left, I remarked “Wow, isn’t she a ray of sunshine.” I meant this sincerely and not in the sarcastic way it was taken. After I cleared up the misunderstanding, my coworkers agreed.
A few years later, Kristen was a regular in a spin class I attended. While everyone else wore a look of tortured anguish on their face, Kristin appeared serene, contented. Kristen’s face looked like she was sipping tea on her back deck on a fine June morning. Everyone likes Kristen.
When Susan and I still lived in Washington, DC, every now and then one of us would take a cab home from whatever activity we attended. We lived on the northwestern edge of the city, a long way from the hubbub of downtown. A cab ride took twenty or more minutes. Whenever Susan walked in the house, she told me the story of her cabdriver. “He emigrated from Cairo three years ago, his wife and two children plan to move to the states next May, he’s helping his brother paint his apartment on Saturday. Oh, and he tried that new Greek place on R Street today.”
The totality of what I heard from my cab drivers was “Where do you want to go?” And later, “That’ll be $7.50.”
I never understood why people opened up to Susan so much more than me. It still happens today. A couple of months ago, Susan, Sophie and I walked the length of a long pier in Marquette Michigan. By the time we reached the end, Susan knew the life story of the man and his mother who walked next to us—where they moved from and why, his profession, and even how they feel about the snowy Marquette winters. Susan tried to draw me into the conversation, but people just don’t want to talk with me.
I have a serious case of RBF. Although I’m not sure I’d call mine a bitch face. A bored face is probably a better description. I don’t look like I might bite your head off, I simply look like I don’t care. Susan prompts me sometimes. “Smile with your eyes, Jeff.” I do fine when reminded, but that misses the point. It’s my resting face that needs to be friendly. It’s supposed to be effortless. “When you force a smile with only your mouth, you look a little insane.”
Other advice from my family members:
You need to look at people when they talk to you so they know you’re listening.
And
Dad, when the cashier says have a nice day, the proper response is “You, too,” not “I will.”
Am I making progress? Maybe, I don’t know. I met with Comcast this morning for an installation at one of our library branches. I greeted the technician in a friendly fashion, and I tried to keep a pleasant face. We didn’t talk about his family or his dinner plans, but he seemed to genuinely like me. At one point while we waited for his home office to activate a line, I asked, “Is it still raining out?”
“Off and on. I hope it stops. I want to go golfing tomorrow.”
Look at me, I had a conversation! As he packed up his tools, I said, “We’re doing two more branches over the next few days. Maybe I’ll see you again?” And I smiled.
He smiled back. “Probably, see you then.”
The Other Stuff 
I feel you. I had an MRI on my knee today and I must have looked the picture of “unstable chemicals, could explode at slightest touch”. I didn’t mean it, I was in pain and stupid me didn’t take the pain medication I needed to have thus morning.
The technician picked up on it quick. She smiled abd cracked jokes to get me to smile and relax. I tried, I really did but my knee was like..nah no smiling.
When everything was done she told me she hoped that the doctor would get to the bottom of it and that I would have relief. She even gave me a wheelchair ride to the front where my ride was waiting. Her mood… did take the edge off mine. And I’m thankful. But I need to be mindful of that sort of thing. Pain makes me a different animal. This was a great post. Have a good evening.
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I’m sure those medical techs deal with a lot of grumpy people. I think pain is a valid time to show your RBF. It’s not really even resting, it’s responding. See King Ben’s Grandma’s comment. Like her, I’m really trying to change the image I send to others. I saw the comcast guy from yesterday again today. He seemed pretty happy to see me.
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My family has a predisposition to RBF. I actively cultivated the “resting smile” and it took a long time to get there!! I never noticed an increase in people approaching me or sharing their life stories, which is fine by me. I’d rather just go about my business anyway. I cultivated the smile for better wrinkles😂😂
On a side note… I’ve been thinking about Robyn the past couple days. It was surprising/not surprising to read her name in your post. Perhaps she’s thinking about us too😉
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Well, smiles promote crows-feet so watch out for that. I think about Robyn now and again (as well as some other long lost blogging best friends). *I* want to reach out to them because I’d like to continue the friendship, but I think it might come off as creepy. It’s weird when people quite plugged into your life simply disappear.
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Where do people go when they disappear? LOL. I’ve also wondered what Robyn is up to on those few occasions when I pop on here.
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Where do people go… Debbie? I know I will one day be one of those who disappeared, but I can’t foresee that time.
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Jeff. You MUST watch “Fisk” on Netflix. Some Australian writer nailed you.
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Ha! OK, I’ll give it a go.
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My wife and I just watched the first episode. We loved it. We assume by nailing me, you mean Fisk herself. I’m going to take that as a compliment. She seems like the sort of person I’d like to hang out with.
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Fisk is the female you. I think. Well, maybe. I don’t really know.
By the way, I gave your info (web) to my writing teacher, BETH FINKE. She edits the Easter Seals blog or newsletter. You’d be a good guest blogger. They don’t pay anything, I don’t think. Her husband posts on her blog: https://bethfinke.com He’s good. Like you.
Love you, funny Jeff.
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I personally don’t like the ‘B’ in RBF since, as you have pointed out, this knows no gender.
I prefer RGF: Resting Grump Face.
Tagging “grump face” with a female gender is like people who tell women at the office that they need to smile more. Do you think any man has ever been told to smile more at work?
My Dad put mirrors in front of the receptionists at IBM and asked them to smile when they answered the phone…because you can hear a smile.
🙂
BTW: I LOVED your book! (Even though you never mentioned me…even amongst all those stories about Shakey’s) 🙂 🙂 🙂
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Did I really mention anyone in the book? I planned to read it last week on vacation but I never got to it, so I can’t really remember. I sort of feel like I didn’t mention very many people (Roz Downey comes to mind). I’m probably an exception but I view bitch as a genderless word. I wouldn’t call someone a bitch, but I use the word bitchy at times. And of course Susan and Sophie’s favorite podcast is Binchtopia, so they call each other Binchies. https://jefftcann.com/2023/04/07/open-letter-to-the-binchies-at-binchtopia/ You don’t mention that I used the slur “Karen”. I see that as a genderless word as well, and Eli even called me a Karen not all that long ago. https://jefftcann.com/2022/11/28/dont-be-a-karen/ – Yes, it’s true, I blog about *everything*.
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As much as I hated having to read this on my phone due to our Internet outage, I loved reading it. You maintain an engaging voice in your writing that I always find appealing and enviable.
From now on when someone tells me to have a nice day, I’m going to say, “I will.”
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Thank you. You don’t need to prop me up too 🙂 Another blogger recommended the tv show Fisk because the main character is exactly like how I portray myself in this story. The show’s hilarious.
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Susan and I must be similar. I’ve been known to talk to a stranger at the mall for ten or fifteen minutes. Once my daughter asked me who that person was and shook her head when I said I’d never met her before. I had lunch with a stranger after we bonded over buying the same clearance jacket at Macy’s. We did both work for the same school district but had never met. I once stood in Macy’s and listed to the mother of one of my daughter’s friends tell me her story about being abused as a child.
These things don’t happen much any more. The wrinkles must have changed my face.
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Susan’s a bit introverted so she isn’t making new best friends every time she leaves the house, but I grew up next to my father who never stood in a line where he didn’t learn everything about everyone in close proximity.
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