Talking to Strangers

     A Girl Scout sold cookies outside a supermarket. The day was cold. Perhaps her fortitude generated sales from passersby.
    For as long as I can remember, Girl Scouts have knocked on doors to sell cookies. I’ve purchased their peanut butter ones. The girls accomplished more than raising money for their troops. They gained self confidence. It’s took courage for a child to approach a stranger.
    Now the Scouts are also selling online.This approach, I’ve read, keeps the girls relevant. Doing so probably boosts sales.
    I’d rather the girls conducted their sales exclusively in person. That way, they’d converse face to face with people they don’t know.
    Talking to strangers builds confidence.

Walk, Don’t Jog

An employee opens the door to an REI store in Massachusetts. People wait outside, hours before a blizzard.

     “Sorry, we’re all out.”
     That sentence was uttered by an employee at a hardware store. I had asked about the availability of lanterns. A blizzard was approaching. Electric power outages were predicted. I needed—urgently needed—a lantern and a propane stove. So did lots of people. The items were hard to find.
     I drove to an REI store. They sell camping equipment. The time was 9:50 AM—ten minutes before the door opened. Several customers gathered outside. Most of them, I surmised, were seeking lanterns or stoves. Nobody spoke to each other.
     Anxiety took hold of me. I wondered if those customers would scoop up the final lanterns and stoves, leaving me empty-handed. My family and I would spend the next few days eating cold food in darkness.
     A selfish thought crossed my mind. I considered the option of rushing into the store when the doors opened, that way, I could arrive at the shelves before the competition. Were those other customers planning the same thing?
     Such behavior would be embarrassing.
     A woman smiled at nobody in particular. She said something about the weather. A man replied to her. Other people joined in the conversation. Everybody acted friendly and easy going, even if they too worried about obtaining those emergency items. That woman—the one with the smile—continued nudging the conversation forward.
     These people, I realized, weren’t poised to stampede into the store. My anxiety eased. I resolved to walk, not jog through those doors.
     And that’s what everyone did. We gravitated to the aisle with lanterns and stoves. Turns out, enough of those items were available for all of us.
     I’m glad that woman initiated a conversation. She comported herself with a dignity that affected all of us. Sometimes dignity is contagious.

Exercising a Right

     Half a dozen demonstrators stood in downtown Boston. Few passersby paid them attention. One reason was the weather. Temperatures were bitter cold.
   What intrigued me wasn’t the demonstrators but a juxtaposition. Behind them, across the street, was a second story balcony. (It is visible behind the woman’s upraised thumb). During the 1830’s, on that balcony, William Lloyd Garrison delivered speeches against slavery. His protestations spawned the emancipation movement.
     One-hundred-and-eighty years later, people still exercise their freedom to protest. This willingness to speak out bodes well for our country.
     Freedom of speech keeps tyranny at bay.

Hijacking Conversations

Photo of my television screen during football game.

    We quit watching after five minutes.
     My father and I had tuned into the college football championship game. We were assaulted by a mind numbing display of graphic and audio overkill. It ruined the viewing experience.
     What bothered me the most was incessant chatter by network commentators. There were six of them. They appeared in three boxes on the screen.
     For me, watching a sporting event on television is a social experience. My father and I enjoy sharing our reactions to the action. But it’s getting harder to chit chat during games. The talking heads on the screen never shut up.
    This might sound outlandish, but I suspect that sports networks don’t want us talking to each other. Advertising dollars are at stake. They want us paying attention to the television when ads come on. To achieve that goal, they expose us to unrelenting commentary and graphics.
     And if we do—God forbid!—yearn to talk amongst ourselves, the network has a contingency. They encourage us to send live tweets. That way, we’re contributing not to the discussion in our living room, but to the discussion on the screen. 
     Sports networks are hijacking our conversations.

Tangible Contribution

     Sometimes Mother Nature doesn’t cooperate.
     Snow covered a pond near my home. Ice skating was difficult. Undeterred, a girl on skates pushed a shovel. She cleared a patch of ice. Other skaters gravitated to the spot.
     Every winter, skaters open up patches of ice. Nobody minds the labor. If anything, the task pleasurable. It’s fun to watch a patch of ice widen with each lap of one’s skating.
     I suspect there’s another reason why this labor is pleasurable. When skaters clear snow, they’re doing more than helping themselves. They’re assisting everyone, even strangers, on that pond.
      Satisfaction comes easily when making a tangible contribution to the common good.

Blue Wave

Two employees assist a woman inside an Apple Store near Boston, Massachusetts.

     Walking into an Apple Store, I noticed a high ratio of staff to customers. The employees were easy to spot. They wore blue shits.
     Several workers approached me. It was like a blue wave flowing in my direction. Pretty impressive.
     I stated the reason for my visit, to pick up a refurbished computer. A young man was tasked to assist me.
     Several technical questions were asked by me. The employee didn’t answer them to my satisfaction. He rambled about this and that, but didn’t attend to the gist of my questions.
     I politely broke away from him. Another employee handled my questions. His knowledge was somewhat better. Still, I did not obtain all the information that I sought.
     My customer experience wasn’t up to the standard of past visits. But I still respect the company. Their salespeople greet customers right away.
     A prompt greeting creates goodwill.

More Than a Shirt

     My sleeve was torn. The flannel shirt was showing its age. It would not be thrown out.
     I asked my mother, 91 years old, to sew the tear. She readily agreed.
     Her eyes aren’t what they used to be. Threading the needle was a challenge. After overcoming that hurdle, she mended the sleeve in no time flat. She used a scissor that’s been in the family for years. I’m wearing the shirt while typing this entry.
     Mom enjoyed the task. That’s because helping other people fulfills her. I suppose that attitude is commonplace among the elderly.
      Most people are good about assisting the elderly in their lives. On occasion it’s better to reverse the roll. Ask the elderly for their assistance. Doing so enriches their lives.

Upper Level Dining

    I had never eaten supper in a top tier restaurant. Then, last month, I attended a birthday party in one of the most exclusive restaurants in Boston. It’s situated in a high rise building. The policy is members only and their guests. I attended as a guest.
    The party happened in a function room. It was isolated from the rest of the establishment. Curiosity got the best of me. I strolled down a hallway to the main seating area.
     The exclusivity was palatable. Tables were spaced far apart. Conversations were hushed. Lighting was dim.
     I detected a loneliness to the place. My being alone had nothing to do this reaction. It just seemed too quiet in there.
     If I ever won the lottery, I would not upgrade to expensive restaurants. A counter seat at a Denny’s would still work for me.