When I was 17, my mom forced me to apply to work at a grocery store. She wanted me to get a job so I could make some money of my own before starting college, but the thought of working with the general public was stomach-churning.
I was apprehensive about interacting and holding meaningless conversations with strangers before I worked in a grocery store. I’ve always struggled with social anxiety, especially when I met new people. At family functions, I’d sit in the corner and refuse to talk to anyone unless my mom or dad was by my side to speak for me.
After I got the job, I spent my first few shifts training as a cashier. I was navigating the stress of being a new employee in addition to being forced to interact with strangers. I didn’t speak more than I had to. I would greet customers, ask if they wanted to punch in their rewards number and thank them, but nothing beyond the scripted dialogue I was taught to say.
I thought of conversations between customers and retail workers as overly drab and insignificant. However, the more I talked with customers and sparked friendly interactions, the more I found value in the conversations.
My store is situated next to an elderly apartment complex, many of them without families or suffering from their own form of debilitating grief. It didn’t take long for customers to start spilling their feelings to me like I was a bartender.
One customer interaction from December 2022 sticks out to me. I was standing on the sales floor when two women talking behind me broke out in tears. They exchanged words of comfort and went about their shopping trips.
One of the women approached me and said she never met the woman she was speaking with. She told me that the other woman’s husband had recently passed and she was seeking advice for her grieving.
The interaction between the two women was impactful because it reminded me of how deeply people crave human connection. It showed me the importance of seeking solace in a stranger for people who may not have someone to talk to at home.
Since then, I’ve opened myself completely to talking with customers for as long as they want regardless of how dull the topic is. Instead of keeping to myself, I make a concerted effort to compliment customers’ outfits and entertain any topic of conversation I choose to bring up.
It took almost a year to fully open myself up, but ever since I did it has been one of the most gratifying changes.
I always dreaded conversations with older people when I started working at the store because my coworkers warned me that they’d be the rudest customers. I’ve since become fond of talking to them because they’re often the ones who need it the most.
I get excited to see the nursing home residents across the street walk around the store. I make sure to ask them about their families and joke when they buy ice cream and cookies, telling me how they need to cut back on the sweets.
Throughout my time at the store, I’ve learned to appreciate conversations with strangers more than I imagined. I was too socially anxious to talk to customers when I first started, but now I look forward to the people I’ll meet.
I’ve heard war stories from Vietnam veterans and musings of grandmothers about how I remind them of their grandchildren. There’s an older man who comes in every day to buy lottery tickets. He’s always in Phillies or Eagles gear, so he’s become a buddy that I can talk sports with.
I started sparking up interactions with customers to give them relief from their potential loneliness, but I realized quite quickly that their company helped me feel less alone too.
When I’m in the throes of my depression, the fleeting conversations revive my spirit in ways few other interactions can. Although they’re often meaningless dialogue about my school work or the cookout the customer is shopping for, being heard is a treasure.
For the longest time, I was too introverted to realize how crucial interacting with a stranger can be. With time, talking with the public became easier and it is the thing I love most about my job.
Having a conversation is so much more than small talk and sharing banal iterations of “How are you?” It is the glue that holds humanity together.
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