I had a college professor ask to speak to me after class one day. He waited until the others filed out and then the conversation went something like this:
Him: Is something wrong?
Me: What do you mean?
Him: You look very unhappy in this class.
Me: I do?!
Him: No. Not unhappy. You look like you're bored out of your mind. Are you bored?
Me, thinking "Oh, this is so not good": OH, NOOOO. Absolutely not! I'm just tired by the time I get to class. I'm really sorry if I don't look enthusiastic.
Him: It's very disheartening to look out and see your face looking so bored.
Me: I'm really sorry. I'm not bored. I'm just tired. Truly.
'Cause when you're lying it always helps to punctuate your comments with "Truly."
I wasn't tired. I was busted.
I was bored out of my mind. And it showed. It always shows. I try to be aware of what emotions are playing across my face and manage them. At least a little. But most of the time, what you see is what you get.*
Amazingly, I've had the opposite to be true. Well, not the opposite. Maybe the catty-corner.
I used to have a coworker that was in love with the sound of his own voice. He'd talk to me, or anyone else who didn't get out of the way fast enough, forEVer, no matter how bored we looked. He just wouldn't take the hint. Even if you said "You're boring me. Go away." He thought you'd told the funniest joke.
You could turn away, he'd keep talking. You could start typing, he'd keep talking.
Eventually, I learned to just get up and walk out of my own office. He'd follow me down the hall for a little bit but if I strode purposefully enough, he'd give up. If all else failed, I'd duck into the Ladies Room. I felt sorry for the guys who had to listen to him because they didn't have that option.
* This has played havoc with my bid for the Senate.