I crashed a wedding in Vietnam. Or, rather, I received my invitation at the very, very last second.
Let me explain.
This past summer, I volunteered on the Duke Engage Vietnam program with eleven other undergraduates. While mornings were spent laying bricks and afternoons teaching English, we had most weekends to ourselves, free to explore (or sleep) as we pleased. It was during one such respite, traveling with a handful of my service inclined colleagues to Danang, that we stumbled upon a full-blown Vietnamese wedding reception underway in the front driveway of our hotel.
Having just arrived, backpacks on shoulders and t-shirts on torsos, our group marched single-file through this festival of newfound love, weaving our way in-between drunk uncles, trays filled with Chả Giò, and a very unamused father of the bride. The juxtaposition of our rugged looking American contingent with the vibrantly colored traditional wedding decor was almost as glaring a contrast as the peaceful breeze of Vietnamese countryside with the hectic urbanist roar of Saigon. Needless to say, we were quite conspicuous. And after several hours of continual travel, we were also quite hungry.
It was in that moment, at the crossroads of appetite and nourishment, that I decided to ignore the ostensible awkwardness of the situation and follow the compass arrow inside of my stomach pointing towards the oodles of rice noodles. I located a women who I assumed to be in charge of the event and, using broken Vietnamese and universally comprehendible gesticulation, asked if we could have some of their food. She enthusiastically agreed and sat our assembly down at a table with some very confused guests.
As soon as my voyage-worn buttocks came into contact with the cold metal seat below, plate after plate of Vietnamese delicacy materialized in front of my watering eyes. Several men at the next table, enjoying the spectacle of foreigners, came over, beer in hand, and tried to instruct me how to open a bottle using chopsticks. As the evening progressed, I had an in-depth conversation with the bride’s cousin, Dó, about Vietnamese political corruption. Later, the groom’s best friend, who told a few of us that his name was Money, insisted that we walk across the street to his home and check out his vast collection of international currency. We politely declined. Then, as the festivities of the evening were winding down, my inebriated Vietnamese friends pushed me onto the makeshift stage and forced me to sing karaoke for them. I gave a powerful rendition of Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” (watch here).
This story is one of my fondest from my time in Vietnam. I created lasting memories with my fellow Duke Engagers and was provided with a completely different, deeper perspective into a truly beautiful culture. Had I not asked that woman for leftovers, I would never have had this unforgettable experience.
This Duke Engage experience taught me that we need to do a better job of asking for things. Too often do we not pursue that which we desire because we cling to the unfounded belief that others will not comply with our requests. We do not wish to assist ourselves by inconveniencing others, thus abandon the feeling of wanting altogether.
In a recent study conducted at Cornell University, researchers sought to identify underestimations of presumed compliance when subjects had to ask others to do some specified task. In one such experiment, 17 participants approached a total of 105 strangers with the goal of borrowing their cellphones. The test subjects presumed that only 30 percent of strangers would actually let them use their devices, however, 48 percent actually lent their phones to the participants. Indeed, the evidence is conclusive. Out of 627 total participants,14,757 strangers and 12 total experiments, the aggregate presumed compliance of 28 percent reflected a severe underestimation of the actual figure, 54 percent compliance.
In addition to our belief that others will not submit to our simple inquiries, eight out of every 10 people are afraid to ask for things in the first place. Is that a real statistic? Nope. But I believe it to be a true. We, as humans, are afraid to ask. We’re afraid to ask people to buy our products. We’re afraid to ask someone out on a date. We’re afraid to ask for more money at our jobs. We’re afraid to ask the tough questions in our relationships.
We’re afraid to ask because we fear rejection.
Rejection is this unbelievably strong thing that keeps us from getting so much in life. On some level, we all just want to fit in. The reason we fixate on things like rejection and negativity is because they make us feel alienated from the rest of the world. Experiencing rejection on any scale cuts into our most basic human core.
So, how do we overcome this fear that other people do not want to help us? For starters, we must realize that just as difficult as it may be to summon the courage to ask something of someone, the awkwardness targets would feel saying “no” supersedes even our own insecurities. For example, if you are walking in the BC Plaza and a friend asks you to buy a pastry from her sorority’s bake sale to support the poor, non-striped zebras, how likely are you to decline? Even though a non-striped zebra is just a horse, you’ll probably pull out a single regardless.
Next, we must let go of our fear of rejection. Let’s say that you want to participate in a weekend banana bread baking competition, but you fear you cannot get your paper due Monday morning done in a timely manner. Ask your professor for an extension! We must realize that the cost of not asking is far greater than ephemeral pain of rejection. Sure, they will most likely decline, but at least you can be content having tried and failed than having just accepted conventionality. After all, your banana bread is bomb. Presuming rejection before even asking the question cuts you off to a whole world of possibility and experiences that may very well give you a story to tell.
So ask away. Ask to sit down with a group of strangers. Ask for AC in your sweltering Crowell dorm room. Ask for financial aid. Ask for an extension. Ask for help on an assignment. Ask for better merchants-on-points hours of operation. Ask to belt Adele at the next wedding you crash. What’s the worst that could happen?
Grant Besner is a Trinity sophomore. His column, "you said duty," runs on alternate Tuesdays.
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