Apparently, I’ve developed a handshake that it is to be somewhat feared. I had the privilege of meeting one of the higher-ups in my department the other day, where I found that all the work I have been doing at home has been paying off in unforeseen ways.
I’m one of those guys who likes firm handshakes. The type of handshake that I hate is what I call the Dead Fish Handshake. You know the one. Everyone has experienced the Dead Fish at some point or another. It’s the type of handshake where you know immediately that the other individual doesn’t _really_ want to shake hands with you because all you get is their fingertips. Then, their hand just kind of flops in yours, like a dead fish, before sliding out of your grip, like a dead, _wet_ fish. I really hate that. I much prefer a firm-gripped handshake because it conveys both warmth and confidence. A good, firm handshake communicates friendliness and openness.
Wherever possible I try to give others a firm handshake to say that I am genuinely pleased to meet them. I have found recently, however, that my firm handshake has become somewhat firmer – to the point of cracking the other guy’s knuckles. I didn’t mean to do it. I blame on all on the moving of hay bales, sawing (by hand) numerous boards for horse stalls, drilling hundreds of screws, and carrying water buckets. I just gave him my customary handshake and found out that I have muscled up a bit more than I thought.
Fortunately I didn’t actually hurt him, just surprised him a bit. He made a joke about _that_ being a firm handshake and that cracking we heard being his knuckles. I guess I just don’t know my own strength…