Have you ever paid attention to the way people shake hands?

I have. Then again, I pay attention to a lot of things that probably don’t deserve quite as much attention as I give them.

There is, of course, the Classic Handshake—firm but gentle, two or three pumps, eye contact, perhaps a smile. It says, “I’m pleased to meet you,” without simultaneously saying, “And I intend to crush several bones in your hand.”

That latter variety is the Macho Handshake. You know the one. Your hand disappears into a hydraulic press operated by someone apparently determined to establish dominance before learning your last name. When it’s over, you smile politely while discreetly checking to see whether your fingers still bend.

At the opposite extreme is the Dead Fish. You extend your hand and receive in return something utterly limp and lifeless. There is no grip whatsoever. You’re not entirely certain whether you’re supposed to shake it or check for a pulse.

Then there’s the Two-Handed Handshake. The person’s right hand clasps yours while the left hand comes warmly over the top. This is one of my favorites. Done sincerely, it seems to say, “I’m not merely acknowledging you. I’m genuinely glad you’re here.”

There is the Drive-By Handshake—quick, efficient, and over before either participant quite realizes it has begun.

And its opposite, the Long Goodbye, in which the conversation continues while your hands remain mysteriously attached. At some point you begin wondering which of you is responsible for initiating the release.

There are probably dozens more: the fingertip handshake, the vigorous pump, the shoulder-grab accompaniment, and that elaborate clasp-and-pull maneuver favored by younger generations that occasionally leaves me wondering which part comes next.

Maybe that’s what intrigues me about handshakes.

They’re such a tiny thing, and yet they reveal something about us. Warmth. Confidence. Nervousness. Affection. Reserve. Enthusiasm. Occasionally, an alarming amount of upper-body strength. In fact, I have been known on rare occasions, when my right hand is preoccupied with holding a book or briefcase to respond to someone’s extended right hand by offering my left hand instead. Unorthodox, certainly. But it does have a kind of charm to it.

Long before we’ve figured out what to say to one another, our hands may have already made the introduction.

So the next time you shake someone’s hand, pay attention.

You may be saying more than you think.

And please—leave their knuckles intact.