My quest for connections continues, and so it went when I found myself at the mall on Friday afternoon.
I had a lovely chat with one person in particular that left me smiling big.
As I walked in to the store, I knew I was out of my element. My jeans read Old Navy on the tag, not Mavi, but I wanted a jean jacket, and hey, this was Jean Machine. So in I went, hoping that I wouldn’t seem like an old fuddy-duddy mom in a store where the music pumping at decibels that made it clear that their target demographic was a good 15 years younger than I am.
I had this idea, and I’m going to do it. Actually, I’m already doing it.
I live in a fairly big city with over 2.5million other people. I go out in this city pretty much every single day, and see some of these people, but I rarely speak to any of them, and when I do, our interactions are transactional. It’s all Tall skim latte, please and Would you like anything else?
Well, as a matter of fact, I would like something else. I’d like to talk to someone. I’d like to connect. Is that crazy? Why don’t people talk to each other anymore? Did they ever? Maybe they do elsewhere, but not in Toronto. Or maybe people in Toronto do talk to each other, but no one talks to me.