The scene: A Publix somewhere in Florida earlier today.
A fit woman in a seriously cute summer dress was ahead of me at the self-checkouts, struggling with the machine. It wasn’t her fault; it wasn’t working correctly. She’d already turned a few times to glance at me. I was next in line behind her. But then she got frustrated and turned to me fully and said as she was about to walk to another station, “Don’t use this one. It’s broken.”
My response was spontaneous, though I used to do these sorts of things when I was younger as a social experiment to learn to better interact with people and to see what worked and what didn’t. Anyway, I said, “Your dress is so cute I’m surprised that alone didn’t fix it” and smiled, not expectantly, as I didn’t want anything but to make her feel good, but rather appreciatively.
She turned a bunch of shades of pink, said “Thank you,” and turned around to walk to a functional machine as the attendant came over to diagnose the broken kiosk.
As she was at the other machine, she kept glancing at me (and not in the way of “wonder what the creepy guy is going to do next,” but rather how you look at someone who makes you feel seen). As she was about to walk out of the store, I smiled again and nodded at her and she did the same to me.
See how easy and pleasant those sorts of interactions can be when everyone is not an utter shithead?
Still, I don’t think that would’ve happened prior to the pandemic. She was obviously glad to be out, glad to be seen, happy to be appreciated for her fitness and her humanity, wearing her nicest dress and looking like a queen doing it.
People, I heard a roar! I made a roar! Let the roaring begin.