I'd Be Happy to Answer Any Questions

I know I've said this before, but if you actually watch for it, you'll be astounded at how true this is...

Wait one second. Before proceeding, here's the all-time best example of something seldom-noticed which proves staggeringly true if you watch for it: the more egregiously another car cuts you off, the sooner it will brake to make another turn.

There are two sorts of people: people who are happy to answer questions, and people who are not happy to answer questions. People who are happy to answer questions never invite questions. It wouldn't occur to them. They just happily answer, ad infinitum. Of course you can ask questions! As opposed to what, "don't you dare ask me a question"??

So people who flamboyantly invite questions will tolerate one, possibly two, easy questions. The sort of questions that are already in the FAQ. If you ask hard questions, or more than a couple, or if you follow up, you'll summon the beast (most often in the form of glaring silence). Watch for it!

Obviously, I don't mean someone giving a public talk or hosting a radio call-in show who invites audience members to the microphone. In those scenarios, they're stuck. They must answer questions. It's a particularly obscure reason for people's fear of public speaking!

A gum dentist ("gummodentologist" is, I believe, the proper term) performed a gum graft and gave me his cell number in case of problems. He'd never mentioned how damned much it would hurt, due to 1. marketing considerations (i.e. he really wanted me to actually show up and pay), and 2. the fact that he'd performed these procedures for decades, so only a damned idiot wouldn't know this fact which is so obvious to him.

So I called his cell on a Saturday to tell him it hurt. He feigned concern, asking if any teeth had fallen out, or if blood was gushing, or if I was unable to remember my name. Any limbs fallen off? Gerbil flocks? No? Well, then fine, he'll get back to his picnic now with his family. The next day it hurt way more. Not just soreness; more like an army of demons stabbing me in the mouth. I called again, and he hustled me off the phone with minimal courtesy, and when I showed up for my follow-up the office fell silent. Here's that fricking guy who called Dr. Hsznftzmm's cell on a weekend...twice.

Note that this story contained an example of Expert/Layman Triage Fallacy