In addition to unearthing some crazy footwork, my tennis coach recently discovered that I’m a writer.  “You should write a story about me,” he said.  Although I don’t know a lot about his personal life, I had to agree.  Why?  Because everyone has a story.  That petite middle-aged woman behind the copy desk at Staples?  She earned a master’s degree in computer science before coming to the U.S., but it’s nothing but a piece of paper here.  And the quiet woman with the Russian accent who helped you mail a package at FedEx?  Law degree, not applicable in the U.S. 

What about the young tattooed woman at Starbucks who seemed a little sullen this morning?  You thought she had an attitude because your order was complicated, but maybe it was because her little brother’s in a wheelchair and a wheel fell off this morning.  Or the cashier at the grocery store:  maybe she’s grumpy because she didn’t think she’d be working when she was sixty-five, but her husband died of heart disease and her daughter’s disabled and life’s a grind.

Maybe not.  It’s true some people are just nasty, miserable misanthropes, but most are basically friendly, and we should acknowledge that by acknowledging them.  So whether you’re the parking garage attendant or the impatient guy in the Mercedes, say hello.  Say please and thank you.  Don’t ignore the chambermaid, the convention attendee, the janitor, the CEO, or the gas station attendant, because they’re all the same.  They all have a story.