There are times when I want to be very social, and there are times when I don't want you to make eye contact with me. But when I talk to strangers, I generally end up happy that I did, unless it's on an airplane and I want to zone out and leave the world behind for a few hours.
Yesterday, we decided to do some laundry in Paris — after all, we're on this trip for two weeks. When we walked into the little corner laundromat, there happened to be a gentleman in there, reading a book and eating an apple. At first glance, the setting of the laundromat, mixed with the fact that this man had less than stellar hygiene and clothing that appeared to be in need of a wash, suggested to me that he may be homeless. Yet we greeted him as normal, with the standard "Bonjour!"
As we fumbled with the machine, trying to figure out which one to use and how the pay system worked, he stepped up and taught us exactly how to use it. We thanked him, set a timer on our phones, and then walked around the 6th arrondissement for the next forty-two minutes while our clothes washed. When we returned, he was still in there reading his book.
I decided to engage. Turns out, there is a fine line between a homeless man and a genius savant.
When it became apparent we were from the United States, this French man mentioned his time in California and Boston. As we spoke more, he said, "Yes, well, I loved UC Berkeley," and then when I pressed further, he said, "I received my PhD in Mathematics there." As we continued to speak, it turned out that his time in Boston was to teach Mathematics at Harvard. Today, he teaches Mathematics at Sorbonne University.
The conversation progressed into geopolitical politics, passports for his children, the concept of travel opening your eyes to the world to make you a more well-rounded person, the multiple regions of France, the European cultural landscape, and so much more. I could have engaged in conversation with this man for hours as he continued to gnaw on his apple, book in hand.
The stains on his clothing, mixed with his poor teeth, and his automatic setting inside the laundromat gave me an indicator at first that he was someone else. My instinct was wrong, and my judgment was even worse. The more he spoke, the more I leaned in as it was clear that this older, dirtier-clothed French Will Hunting was not who he presented himself as.
As we said goodbye, it was clear that this was another case of the value that we get when speaking to strangers. Everyone has a story. Everyone has a past. Everyone has a life to share, and some have incredible journeys that we can all learn from no matter what they look or sound like at first glance.
You know how much value I place on the human connection, and the amount of importance I preach on networking and meeting people, but even I can be the first to put my head down and not want to engage. Sometimes we're tired, we're in our own heads, we're dealing with our stresses of the day. But when we do engage, we tend to learn a lot, as every interaction with another person is like opening a new chapter of a book that is never finished.
You'll learn more from strangers than you will from the interactions with your closest friends. You'll learn more from strangers than you will from social media. You'll learn more from strangers than you will from that fiction book you're into. So look up, meet someone's eyes, offer a real smile, ask how their day is going, and you might be surprised at the door you just opened.