“Thank you!”

I was jolted out of a screen-trance, my face buried in my tablet working on a blog post, minding my own business in a homey college town cafe in the middle of winter, as I had done hundreds of times before, killing a few hours until my presentation later that evening.

“What?” I looked up to see a middle-aged woman carrying a tray full of dirty dishes beaming down at me.

“For the meal,” she explained. “It was great!”

“I’m glad to hear it, but I don’t work here.”

“Oh. I thought you were him,” gesturing to the vacant counter where the actual employee making sandwiches had temporarily gone into the back.

“Nope, I’m not him.”

“Ha!” she snorted. “Well, have a nice day.”

“You too.”

She threw out her garbage and left the cafe. Seconds later the employee came back out. I couldn’t help but shake my head at the sight of the 6-foot-4-inches tall black man with a shaved head that I, a 5-foot-11-inches tall white man with long hair, had just been mistaken for.

In our fast-paced, distracted world full of screens and avatars, it’s easy to miss the human right in front of us. Pre-pandemic I too noticed myself forgetting what our server looked like, because I never really looked at them in the first place. I don’t remember doing that before the digital revolution took full control of our lives.

“Hey man, the lady that just left said to thank you for a great meal.”

A huge, ear-to-ear grin came over his face, “Wonderful! Thanks for telling me.”

It was my pleasure, but it should have been hers. She didn’t just rob him of his compliment, she also robbed herself of connection. 

As the world slowly comes back, let’s try to remember how deeply we’ve missed the ability simply to share a smile with a stranger. It’s time to recognize people’s individual humanity, even if just to thank them for a warm sandwich on a cold night.