Anyone for a game of blinkered chicken?

What an awkward name.

Blinkered chicken is a game that people pretend not to be playing when constrained to appear serious and professional. From the viewpoint of the player, it is therefore a non-game, a pretense. I see it - and also engage in it - almost on a daily basis.

When I walk to the large corporate buildings where I work, asserting themselves amidst an otherwise flat landscape with the silent power of those who receive and harbour and transform before giving back, I needs must take many paths before I arrive at the particular building I go to, furthest from my entry onto the premises. Being a proud pedestrian I know my way well enough, unencumbered by the change that motorists face when their favourite parking spot is taken.

Now as it happens my path crosses several other walkways at a perpendicular angle, and when I reach these - especially the first of these on the inner sanctum or privileged parking square that the buildings huddle around - I inevitably cross the path of people making their way from one building to the other (whereas I am simply trying to get to the other side).

So there we are, professionals at anticipation and calculation: how likely is it that we will walk into each other at my current pace? Will he walk faster or slow down - or stay steady (that's for the truly brave)? This problem presents itself in many public spaces, in office corridors, at shop entrances, every day. But nowhere is the distinct pretense of not playing this game so apparent as between serious office workers on the premises where they work. Add to that a sprinkle of English reserve and the predictability becomes a spectacle.

There are two further aspects that distinguish this non-game. (The term "non-game" should be understood to follow from the player's viewpoint, because the player must pretend that it is not a game, just like, by way of analogy, a certain type of "friendly" meeting between a male friend and a female friend is in fact a non-date rather than a true friendly, since one of the two must pretend that he/she doesn't prefer it to be a real date instead, while the other wishes the company was someone else). The first is that it is always preferable to strike out in a David Campese-style march rather than visibly indicate a real slow-down or halt when a change of pace is required. The second is that, unlike chicken, all angles except head-on apply.

Well maybe I exaggerate. After all, the real game of chicken starts inside the office. The blinkered version is just an unfortunate side-effect.