Save yourselves while you still can: an assimilated introduction

Our regular columnist Molly Quell is worried that she might have gone a bit too far with her inburgering process. 

“They were fine, but…” I trailed off. I couldn’t quite put my finger on why I hadn’t enjoyed meeting my husband’s colleagues after we ran into them at a pub.

My (Dutch) husband and I were out with some (Dutch) friends when several of his (non-Dutch) work acquaintances happened by the bar where we were set up with beers and bitterballen.

The group was welcomed to join us, chairs were procured from nearby tables and another round of trips was ordered.

The colleagues were jolly, with conversation running from summer holiday plans to obscure folk traditions from their various homelands.

And yet, they irked me.

As he and I walked home, my husband asked the standard, post-social-engagement debrief questions. He probed about my hesitation over his colleagues.

“They didn’t introduce themselves,” I said, finally articulating what had bugged me.

The internationals, I realised, hadn’t engaged in the Dutch ritual of introducing themselves to everyone at the table, with a firm handshake and requisite eye contact.

Ten years ago, I would have told you with great confidence that this was a silly and awkward social interaction. That it is disruptive at parties and gatherings. That you forget everyone’s name immediately and then run the risk of not knowing their name if you get into real conversation later.

I’m not here to defend the practice. But I have now become so accustomed to it that it bothers me when it’s not done.

I’ve gone too far with my integration.

I’ve integrated a lot. I swim in canals. I happily go to the nude, mixed-gendered sauna. I’ve sold stuff on King’s Day and bought plates with Albert Heijn zegels.

Those are all defensible. Jumping in a canal is really keeping me cool this summer and I still use my plates.

But mandatory group introductions at social gatherings? I should self-deport and spend some time thinking about what I’ve become.

This is more or less how all human traditions come to pass. Enough people do something enough times, it becomes normalised, and now I’m congratulating 25 people sitting in a circle on someone else’s birthday.

In general I do like Dutch Introduction Culture. Dutch teenagers are much more comfortable interacting with adults than teenagers of other nationalities, in my experience. I assume this is because they have been forced from a young age to introduce themselves to everyone.

You say hello. You acknowledge that there is another person present. You do it in all facets of human interaction. At meetings and events and, goddammit, when you run into your colleague at the pub.

But to go so far as to look down upon lovely people who have no idea it is expected of them and therefore don’t do it? Next thing you know, I’ll be carrying a “Grenzen dicht” poster at a far-right rally.

When you live amongst people, you absorb their cultures and customs. I spend most of my time around Dutch people these days and my sense of reality has been warped.

Honestly I think it’s too late for me. I’m offended by the idea of putting on a bathing suit to go to a sauna. I grow increasingly frustrated with colleagues who cannot simply say directly what they want. A few weeks ago, I teased a friend for having a “luxurious” lunch.

Reader, it was a salad.

Save yourselves, get out while you still can. But make sure you firmly introduce yourself upon arrival.