I’ve recently come to realize that I am particularly nosy when it comes to books that other people are reading, but especially in situations where somebody who is serving me from the other side of a counter has a book in front of them. The other day, a server at a bar had a textbook in front of her and I actually lost my train of thought because I was spending too much brain power reading her book upside-down so that I could figure out what it was (it was a history of beer, appropriately enough).
Just about everything. I have no idea why people care if others are interested in what they are doing. If I want to do something I don’t want anyone to ask about then I don’t do it when anyone is around to see it.
Oh my gosh, I have got to know what strangers are reading. I’m even tempted to ask them outright, but restrain myself.
I get a lot of requests at work to notarize things. Most of these people I know so well that I don’t need to see their identification, but I ask for it anyway. I really just want to get a gander at their drivers license picture!
I’m nosy in that I have a nose, but that’s about it. In fact, if I bumped into someone I knew and they were wearing nothing but a top hat and monocle, I probably wouldn’t even mention it.
I get the addresses of my co-workers from our employee directory, and then I go look at their houses on Google street view. I like to see other people’s homes.
When I am sitting next to someone on my train home, I always try to figure out what their reading. Although the main thing that interests me is whether it is in French or English. But nowadays my seatmates are likelier to be playing a game on their phone.
I work in cubicleland and cannot help hearing what everyone is talking about. Some people seem to be able to tune out people speaking even without earphones, but I can’t help but hear. Which is good, since I like knowing what’s going on!
I listen in on other people’s conversations. But it’s not because I’m nosy, it’s because I’m paranoid. I’m convinced that they’re always saying awful things about me.
Me, too. I don’t stare at people that’s around me, I deliberately stare straight ahead when I walk past patient’s rooms in the hospital, and I try not to overhear private conversations. But I love looking in other houses when I walk by. But not in a creepy way.
I really need to know what you do for a living, what drew you to it, how long you’ve done it, what your educational background is, etc. etc. I’m in HR - occupational hazard.
Last month on a flight to Darwin, I noticed the girl two seats away from me had a book on her lap, face down. I recognized the picture of Orwell on the back dust jacket, so I said “You’re reading Orwell”. We had a nice discussion then about Australian authors. Readers like to talk to each other about what they read, and a comment is always welcome…
Me three. I don’t care about any people that might be in there, I just seem to be fascinated with the insides of other peoples’ houses.
I would also be considered nosy about other peoples’ personal lives if I ever had the nerve to ask anyone. This is one reason I long ago gave up the idea of being a psychotherapist - I was too interested on a personal level. (Also because I couldn’t stand the idea of sitting around and listening to other peoples’ problems without being able to talk about mine in return.)