Am sitting in a New York City coffee shop, writing and listening.
A woman just stopped in with her husband and kids. She either used to either work here or eat here a lot. She started talking to a guy behind the counter—”So, how old’s your daughter now?” and “Anything new with the menu?” Her husband lingered, lingered, lingered. Until, at long last, she said, “This is my husband, Jim …”
Code: I don’t remember your name, so I hope you introduce yourself to Jim.
I live for this stuff. Not sure if I’m alone, because I consider it to be great entertainment. Conversations with past associates who you have no real present connection to. You can’t just ignore them, but you have nothing genuinely interesting to say. So you babble around a few minutes until a convenient distraction comes along. In this case, the woman turned to her kids. They didn’t actually need attention, but she did.