Unassigned
Last week I had brunch with my friend, Kelly, at the Chicago staple, Nookie’s. Perfectly equidistant from Kelly’s house to mine, it is always the prime place for us to meet and catch up on one another’s lives.
True to form, Kelly was on time and I was five minutes late. Also true to form, we both had good intentions of scrambled egg-whites and wheat toast, but settled on crunchy french toast and a Southwest omelet. Woopsies.
As we drank our coffees and dished about men, work and foreign policy (Okay, not that last one, but it sounded good, didn’t it?), we intermittently chatted with our waitress, Marilyn**. It was fairly slow in the diner, due to the fact that it was a Friday at 10 am, so we had a chance to really interact with her in between refills and gossip. As we neared the end of our meal, we noticed that the woman at the front of the restaurant looked strikingly similar to Marilyn. We, of course, voiced our observation and, sure enough, the woman in the front was Marilyn’s twin, Carolyn**.
We motioned her over and asked them how long they had worked here together. What happened next was far beyond our expectations for that day’s brunch.
Marilyn and Carolyn’s reaction to our inquiry was priceless. It was as though no one had ever made the time to ask these women about themselves, who they are, or how they arrived here. It was as though it had been ages since someone reminded them that they mattered.
And just like that, with one sincere question, the stories poured out. They told us how they had worked together at every single job they’d ever had. They explained to us how Carolyn was the boss of Marilyn and how it worked because Carolyn was born thirty minutes before Marilyn; thus the seniority had long been established. They entertained us with tales of phone calls they receive from wives who find Nookie’s receipts in their husband’s wallets and assumed it was a strip club instead of a diner. All throughout their stories, Kelly and I just listened and laughed along with them. Neither Kelly nor I are women of few words but for that tiny window of time, we knew, without discussing it, that this was Carolyn and Marilyn’s moment. Our stories and anecdotes could wait.
We left the restaurant that morning feeling like we had truly made a beautiful connection with another human being. Two human beings, in fact. We commented to one another how funny it is that we have eaten at that same Nookie’s countless times without ever making the effort to get to know the women behind the scenes and how seldom it is that we really listen to people without inserting our own opinions and comments. We then made a pact that the next time we were there we would rekindle and continue the friendship.
Not two days later, I had to meet a friend for coffee. In light of my recent interaction with the Nookie Twins (as we had now dubbed them), I chose Nookie’s as the meeting place. Sure enough, M and C were both there; Carolyn manning the front register and Marilyn working the floor. To my great disappointment, neither of them recognized me. Full of excitement and good will, I had been prepared for a gregarious welcome and another round of bonding and conversation. Unfortunately, this didn’t happen. As I pouted and pondered the validity of our earlier connection, I realized that for once, it wasn’t about me. I can’t be certain of the purpose behind our previous interaction, but I do know that for one small moment in time, I removed myself from the situation and let it simply be about someone else, regardless of what it would benefit me. Satisfied with my rationalization, I finished my meal, smiled and made sure to say goodbye to Marilyn as I walked out.
Turns out, I did get something from my conversation with the Nookie Twins. It wasn’t a job connection, advice or a discount. It was a life lesson, and even I know that’s more valuable than an internship or a free omelet. At a time when networking is prized as the ultimate way to thrive professionally, relating to others simply for the sake of connecting can be seen as pointless, or even borderline foolish. Contrary to popular notion, this is not the truth. The more we go out of our way to think about others instead of ourselves, the more accurate our perspective on ourselves becomes. And with that comes the shocking realization that it is not all about me. And lets face it, with all of the time we spend dwelling on our own needs and wants and issues, it is refreshing to focus on someone else for a change. Certainly the hardest part of this is mastering the untapped art of listening. And although I am nowhere near close to perfecting it, I’m learning. And I have Marilyn and Carolyn to thank for that.
As I type this, I am struck with the blessing and privilege it is to be a writer and have a column like this as a platform to tell my stories. Not everyone has this opportunity. But we can give it to them – in Hello’s, Thank You’s and Good Morning’s, we can give it to them. In How Are You’s, Are You Feeling Better’s and Where Are You From’s, we can give it to them.
If Kelly and I can do it on a random Friday, accidentally, so can you.
**Names have been changed to protect anonymity and because I like when twins have names that rhyme.
