The power of nice.

I’m a bzzagent. And they sent me this book to read and talk about. I’ve only read part of it, and like it so far. But that’s not what this post is about. It’s just that the sunny yellow cover keeps starting at me. And while I was thinking about some things that happened over the last couple days, it inspired me.

Growing up with my dad was fun. No doubt. But one of the things that I always loved about going out with him was the conversations. Not with me. We had a lot, of course, but with the bank teller and the gas station attendant and the receptionist and the clerk… Basically, with everyone. My dad is friendly. He strikes up a conversation wherever he goes. I never thought that was unusual.

And, I thought it was commonplace to take food offerings to people. Like candy to the dental assistant or donuts to the pediatrician’s office. These days, my father buys dozens of Krispy Kremes and delivers them all around town – to the oncologist, to the internist, to all the people who were so nice to him when he was sick. He does this a lot. I mean a lot. When you see my dad coming, you know there’s a good chance that he’s carrying thousands of sticky calories with him.

Recently, I went to a casino in Delaware with him to play the slots. (Maryland has horse racing and lottery, but slots would be immoral?) Anyway, we went in and he checked in with his member card. The woman knew him by name. Before she saw the card. We played a while and went to cash out. (I won!) The cashier said, “Are you Bob’s daughter? We love your father!” And so on, and so on…..

So what I’m trying to say is that, to me, talking to strangers and being friendly is genetic. At least from one side of the family.

So, much to the embarrassment of my husband and, sometimes, my children, I talk to everyone. The guy who checks the membership cards at the gym (Kwame) knows me by name and I know where his other job is and always stop and say hi. You won’t be surprised to hear that most people don’t acknowledge him at all. I know that Norma at the post office has worked there, at this exact location, for almost all her adult life. She knows that I’m selling stuff on eBay for charity. And she told me today what store I can go to and get free packing peanuts. Evidently they just throw them out. You think she tells a lot of people about that? I think it’s payback for all the times I saved my packing peanuts for Julie. Julie is our mail carrier and has been since we moved in. She has a bad knee. Married with no children. Used to be very athletic. Has a sister she is close to. And she’s hooked on eBay. So I saved my packing stuff for her. Except now, I need it. And she understands.

Gary, who works at Bloom, has a terrible cold. He should have called in sick. But he’s going to go straight home and get some sleep. Beverly, who answered the phone at the Kings Contrivance Village Center today, had such a lovely phone voice. I mentioned it. Not to butter her up, but because she did. I doubt that’s why she was so helpful as I was looking for information about booking the venue.

When I had some beautiful memorial cards printed, I got to talking to the owner. Turns out she is a member of the same congregation as me. She might even join NCJW. This morning, I started a conversation with a woman who works out with the same trainer as me. She always looks so sad. She and I had never spoken, but surely knew who each other was. She seemed so relieved to have human contact. She, who I thought was so shy, went into a huge history of her muscular life. I think she even smiled.

My life is enhanced by others. And I feel lucky that I’m not afraid or embarrassed to start a conversation.

I just don’t think everyone looks at it that way.