Smiles may prove disarming but really dangerous

Web-posted: Wednesday, February 26, 1997

hat smile could have been the equivalent of a panther licking its chops."

The doors to the crowded elevator opened, and she was there, facing those of us who were already aboard and bathing us in the glow of her smile.

A striking woman, 40 at most, wearing a smartly tailored black suit that showed off her slender figure and contrasted nicely with her wavy blond hair. Simple gold loops for earrings and a thin gold chain around her delicate neck.

But the sweet smile was her most noticeable feature. Some might say it was a Mona Lisa smile, mysterious, enigmatic. I would have disagreed, since there was a humorous flicker in her eyes.

She rode down only a couple of floors and got off.

As the doors closed, my lunch companion, a mature man, said: ''Now there was a really lovely lady. What a great smile.''

I said nothing, since I never talk on elevators and I don't understand the thinking of those who do. Especially those who share their private thoughts or business dealings with strangers or casual acquaintances.

If you read the book or watch all the movies, you will never once see the wise old Don Vito Corleone or his smart kid Michael talking on elevators. And they would have probably vigorously disciplined any colleague who did.

When my friend expressed his admiration for the lovely lady, there were grunts of agreement from the other male passengers.

''Yes, a beautiful smile,'' one of them said. ''Why can't everyone look that happy?''

Again I remained silent. But when we got to the ground floor and were walking through the building's lobby toward lunch, I told my friend: ''I didn't think you were such a sucker for a pretty face and a lithe figure.''

''You didn't think she was a knockout?'' he said.

''I suppose on a superficial level, yes, she was pretty. But this gushing about her smile. Come on, grow up.''

''You didn't think she had a wonderful smile?''

The discussion continued over the cup of soup and half a tuna salad sandwich lunch special.

''How do you know what she was smiling about?'' I asked.

''What's the difference?'' he said. ''She had a sweet smile. It brightened my day.''

''Well, what would you say if I told you that the reason she was smiling was that she had just done something to destroy the career of someone she works with. A performance report, a devastating remark at a meeting. And that was the end of a career, hopes for future advancement, the shattering of all the plans he and his family had made. Yes, in effect, she stuck the stiletto in between the third and fourth ribs, then twisted it. And that was why she was smiling, at the thought of how cleverly and subtly she had destroyed him.''

''What are you talking about?'' my friend sputtered, almost choking on his tuna sandwich. ''You don't even know her. Do you?''

''Never laid eyes on her before. Don't have the slightest idea what she does. But it is a jungle out there. Happens all the time. Especially with the cannibalizing of corporate America. It is a fight for survival or dominance. And that smile could have been the equivalent of a panther licking its chops.''

''Oh, that is ridiculous,'' he said. ''She was just a nice person with a nice smile.''

''Really? Well, what if I told you that she had just made a phone call or written a note that destroyed what had been a happy marriage, or at least a satisfactory one? It wasn't enough that she had turned the head of a once-decent man who had a happy home. And led him into illicit trysts. But that wasn't enough. She wanted him all to herself, so she had made the wicked phone call to his frumpy wife or written the wicked tell-all note, and now she was smiling about the chaos she had created and the sordid victory she had won.''

''You are sick.''

''Happens all the time. You'd be at what is behind many of the cheerful smiles you see on people's faces. That is why I don't trust people who smile when there is nothing visible to smile about.''

''That's right,'' he said. ''I've never seen you crack a cheerful smile just because you feel good.''

''Of course not. How often did you see Don Corleone smile? Life is a serious matter, and it should be approached in a serious manner. That is why I dislike people -- especially relative strangers -- who say: 'Oh, come on, things can't be that bad! Smile!' A salesperson did that to me in a store the other day. I promptly bought one share of stock in the company that owns the store and fired off a letter to the chairman of the board, demanding that she be fired for insolence. Smiley people who urge others to smile are far worse than those who tell us to have a nice day.''

''Here's the check,'' he said. ''Let's get out of here.''

''OK, and let's do this again soon. I'd like to tell you what I think of people who hum.''

© 1996 Chicago Tribune