Navigating the world of the Nay-sayer

It is a constant source of frustration to me that the world is slowly evolving into a large, cheesy and sycophantic omelette. An evolution that is actively encouraged requires a measure of parsimony to allow the mechanics of the process to function, without the benefit of constructive criticism.

One goes down to the store and encounters characters loaded with suspicious proclivities, and the inevitably reprobate tête-à-tête follows – goading, painful, occasionally sarcastic; almost an invitation to violence.
One sees a person on the street – helpless, alone, in terribly obvious need - and the first instinct is to unconsciously retract from the horror of an imagined touch, and an equally unconscious plea to the heavens that the subject of your scorn would just go away.
One attends an interview of apparently mutual understanding on the terms and conditions of employment, but is never sure where he/she stands even after all the dialogue and hand-shaking and the smiles of infinite promise.

What exactly are we afraid of – that we are being lulled into a false sense of complacency by the natural act of interacting with a stranger? That if we let our guard down, we will be subject to the mercies of the God of ‘I-told-you-so-dumbass’? That we cannot, and should not, give in to the intuitive trust implicit in human discourse. That the world is for the wolves and that we shall not be the peasants in the game?
The best of luck to you with that approach. All I see in your future is a face lined with very many creases of thankless misgiving, and a body that shakes uncontrollably from lying with the bouncy whores of chronic scepticism.