Having graduated from high school for two years now, I sometimes find myself in one of these situations at the local grocery store. Granted, these scenarios are not nearly as gripping as the choice between name brand, organic peanut butter versus generic, no-stir peanut-flavored paste, but my mind has been mulling over a few particular grocery store interactions, so I thought I might as well write about it.
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A friend is approaching:
Friend: "Woah hey! How have you been?"
Me: "Haha pretty good, how about you?"
[Proceed to recite the classes and extracurricular activities of the past two semesters of college. Share kindred moments over cooking fiascos, roommate dynamics, and spontaneous late night adventures. Talk about internships and job prospects, and plans for the future. Inevitably circle back to funny and/or awkward high school memories, and collectively pool information about the relationships and whereabouts of our high school peers. Avoid addressing that one scenario from two years ago where you felt slightly out of the loop since everyone else seems to have moved on. Find out that the cashier has been waiting for a while now for you to hand over your grocery basket, so hastily make plans to catch up some more, though you aren't really sure what else there is to talk about. Ultimate fade from that person's mind until you run into them over holiday break at the grocery store again for another trip down memory lane.]
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An acquaintance is working the cash register:
[an internal stream of consciousness]
Oh yikes, do I say hi? Do you remember me? I'll try for a slight head nod and faint smile, acknowledging that we spent the past seven years in each other's periphery. But then again, what if I am just another unrecognizable face from the public school system? I believe the only times we've talked were under the instructions of Think, Pair, Share. I don't think you were a mean kid at school, why didn't we ever cross paths? Maybe it is just a quirk of mine to recognize and remember the names of most people, and to not want to expect others to act likewise. Or maybe I'm just awkward.
"Oh no thanks, I brought my own bag. Have a nice day!"
Maybe I'll try again next week.
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A parent of an elementary school friend is reaching for the same bag of unsalted, corn tortilla chips:
"KAITLYN! IS THAT YOU?"
I surreptitiously glance over my left and right shoulders, wondering if anyone named Kaitlyn is in the vicinity. As you may have guessed, there is not.
"Hi Ms. X-! It's nice to see you."
"YES IT IS! ARE YOUR PARENTS DOING WELL? I REMEMBER YOU AS A LITTLE GIRL RUNNING ON THE POOL DECK WITH [insert name of her child]."
"Ahaha yes, those were fun times. My parents are alright."
"HOW ARE YOU? DID YOU PICK A MAJOR IN COLLEGE YET?"
I answer briefly with my college, major, year, and loose career aspirations (just in case those plans go awry). I preemptively slide in my relationships status and agree that school is hard and I'm lucky to be where I am.
Sure enough, that seems to satisfy her curiosity and the mic is handed back. Ms. X turns on proud parent mode and proceeds to humble brag about the achievements and milestones of her child, while ending with an obligatory (but warm), "of course, [child] can work harder."
I smile and make a mental note to reach out to that elementary school friend, or at least look up their profile on social media to see how they're doing. We part amicably.
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Though it may seem like I'm poking fun with these templated interactions, by no means do I think they are shallow. People float in and out of your life, just as you float in and out of theirs. And I notice that my spirits usually lift after (mustering courage for) a talk with them. And so the grocery trips will continue.
