The Dream World Collective

27. Talking to Strangers

Zen and Thomas unloaded their piles of groceries from the little red wagon onto the checkout line.

"Did you find everything ok?" croaked the adolescent cashier.

Zen pondered this.

"That's an interesting question. I suppose if we're just talking about—" Then he remembered. This was one of those questions.

"Fine-thanks-and-you." He tossed it off without waiting for a response, as Sushi had trained him to do in these situations. With that taken care of, he observed, "People must buy some weird combinations of stuff here."

"Yeah, I guess," said the cashier, punching in the number for starfruit.

"Like what?" Zen asked.

"I dunno. I kind of don't really pay attention."

"You should," said Zen firmly. "It can be pretty funny. I saw a guy getting beer, sponges and a cigarette lighter once. What are you going to do with beer, sponges and a lighter? Molotov mocktails?"

"Probably just needed sponges. That'll be $47.79."

"I got a couple packs of marshmallows and a rake one time," Thomas threw in. "I guess that's kind of funny if you think about it all together."

"Yeah, that's the key," Zen agreed. They loaded the wagon back up and headed outside.

"Now, talking to hot girls," began Zen. Thomas trotted up a couple steps to make sure he was in earshot. "Basically, just start talking to everybody."

"But—"

"I know. But trust me on this. If you start talking to everybody, you'll be used to it by the time a hot girl comes around. You have to stop caring whether they're hot."

Thomas hesitated. "But I do care whether they're hot."

"Why?" asked Zen. Thomas struggled with his words. Zen smiled. This was the best part of teaching. Productively confusing your pupil.

"They just—I mean, I—" He paused, apparently waiting for Zen to bail him out. Zen didn't.

"That's the whole point!" Thomas finally blurted. "What's the point of learning how to meet people if it's just...random people?"

"What's a random person?" Zen asked rhetorically. "I mean, I'm pretty sure there's no such thing as a boring person."

"Yeah, but—"

"No, I know what you mean. Oh! Perfect chance! Go say hi to that guy." Zen pointed to a businessman walking toward them with his eyes on the cold sidewalk.

"No!"

Zen threw up his non-wagon-dragging hand. "I can't teach you if you refuse to learn."

"Fine." By now the businessman was a few steps away and closing fast. Thomas stopped and flashed a hand at him. "Hi."

"Howryoudoin," said the businessman without slowing down or making eye contact. Zen smiled.

"See? That wasn't so bad, was it? Nice job, by the way."

"But that was totally pointless. He didn't even look at me."

"Which leads us to an important discovery. Most people don't care about you at all."

Thomas hitched his hands back into his back pockets.

"I guess. But what does that have to do with..." He trailed off.

"You're off the hook. You can screw up as hard as you want and people don't care. They'll just think you're an idiot and walk away. Ooh, go say hi to her." This time it was an old lady sitting on a park bench reading the newspaper.

"No!" cried Thomas. "Look, man, I'm not just gonna keep barging in on people. And the whole point is not looking like an idiot."

"Oh, come on. Everyone secretly wants some stranger to just walk up and strike up an amazing conversation with them. You're going to change someone's life today. Or this week. Sometimes it takes a few tries."

They had come to a halt across the street from the old lady.

"Look, I don't want to do this," Thomas whispered urgently.

"Obviously," Zen replied. "Otherwise you'd already be talking to hot girls at the grocery store."

He gave that one a moment to sink in.

"Now I'll tell you what's going to happen. You'll walk over. You're going to kind of cringe and wave, if I'm any judge, and you'll say hi, just that word, and just loud enough to make you feel like you technically did it. If she ignores you, you have to say it again louder. Then she'll either look up at you nicely and say 'Hello' in a sweet, grandmotherly tone and you'll ask what she's reading about and she'll tell you and maybe invite you to sit down and you'll have a wonderful conversation and make a friend, or—" He looked hard at the old lady, trying to evaluate which way it would go. Sometimes it was a tricky call.

"Or what?" Thomas asked with some desperation.

"Or when you ask what she's reading she'll snap that she's trying to read, if you don't mind, and young people these days are such an obnoxious bother and why can't you just mind your own business."

"Oh," said Thomas.

"Think of the hot girls." Zen patted his shoulder reassuringly.

"Ok," said Thomas.