The Magic of Fleeting Encounters

Everyday conversation with strangers gives you information, understanding, and a sense that you’re part of something bigger

I meet and talk to new people every day. Every day. My secret weapon is Rocky, the irresistible 9-pound parti poodle shown above. Rocky is a people magnet.

But Rocky can’t do the talking. That’s where I come in. I love to talk; I love to hear people’s stories. I literally wrote the book on “consequential strangers” — everyday connections that don’t seem to matter but really do. What’s most surprising is that these peripheral relationships can impact your life even if they last just a few minutes.

My partner will have you believe that I “talk to everyone.” But I discriminate. I have a sense of whether it’s safe to engage. And I ease in, just in case I’m wrong. I rarely am.

This morning, for instance…

On the way home from our first walk of the day, I spot a handsome setter-like dog with a fashionably-dressed owner. I assume she’s a fellow resident of the 7th arrondissement, the neighborhood some call “the American quarter of Paris.”

She’s standing in front of two young women sitting on a bench, chatting while they pet her dog. I move toward them, to see if Rocky likes the dog and what language the humans are speaking.

I’m less inclined to talk to strangers (or anyone) in French. But this is an interesting-looking trio, so I join them with the opening words I learned years ago when I first came to this city:

Je suis désolé. Je ne parle pas très bien le français. (I’m sorry. I don’t speak French very well.)

Now that I’ve been here a while, I add a one-liner: Je parle un peu. Je comprends rien! (I speak a little; I understand nothing!)

It came to me spontaneously one day. My first audience laughed at my first attempt at humor. It’s not far from the truth, and it feels good to land a joke in French, so I continue to trot it out. It also encourages conversation in English.

We say our hellos, but the dog owner has somewhere else to be or isn’t interested in further chit-chat. We bid her a bonne journée.

I don’t necessarily ask names in these brief encounters. Who knows if I’ll see them again? But these little shots of social contact enrich and educate nonetheless.

Call me a snoop, but…

…in the next three or four minutes, chatting with the girls on the bench, I get to peek into someone else’s life. I learn the barest essentials.

“Are you students?” I ask, assuming they’re juniors — the year American students typically attend university abroad.

“No,” the girl from Cameroon corrects. Her friend is from Germany. “This is our freshman year. Our college will send us to a different country each year!

“Wow! You’ll be able to speak five languages by the time you’re done?”

“That’s the idea,” she says, with a big smile. What I don’t realize until I get home and look up Cameroon is that her country has two official languages, French and English. She’s already ahead of the game.

Both girls speak English with slightly different but almost imperceptible accents. They are charming and curious, articulate about themselves and interested in others.

I am compelled to compliment them:

“It’s great that you’ll have a command of so many languages when you graduate, but I can see that you already have what you need to succeed: Great social skills.”

They nod in agreement. I’m a big believer in reaching across the generational divide. I have my old ladies. But I also love to hang with twentysomethings.

I recently had lunch with my grandson’s college friend and her friends, juniors studying in London who came to Paris for a few days. We found surprising common ground. They are now studying theories I’ve written about. They, too, seemed ahead of the game.

I gave them the same spiel — not that they needed it, but because I wanted them to know they were on the right path — that I delivered this morning in the park.

“I don’t care how smart or athletic or talented you are….What you need most is the ability to talk to people, to listen, to take in their experiences and information, and to connect. That’s what gets you through life — and gets you what you want out of life.”

To boost my credibility with the new Paris acquaintances, I explain that I’m a writer who’s actually researched social encounters, even brief ones like this. Of course, I suggest that they buy my book.

As they reach for their phones to write down the title and my name, the German girl asks, “Do you live here?”

“Yes — and in New York,” I answer.

“I hope you don’t mind my saying this, but I’m a little bit jealous.”

“I understand. I have the best of two worlds, but you know…I’ve also paid my dues.”

“That’s just what I want to do,” she adds. “I want to work hard and have something to show for it.”

“And I bet you will.”

I walk away from our conversation a little more hopeful about where the world might be going. If I see them again, I’ll buy them a coffee. And if now, this was enough.

More about people who don’t seem to matter…

After this piece was published, I discovered this story, highlighting the healing, as well as the social, power of dogs.

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