There was a rather taciturn young man at the register when I carried my handbasket of produce over. He greeted me, but did not make eye contact or conversation. Sometimes I wonder if it's easy for young people to dismiss me or hard for them to engage with me because I'm a white woman of a certain age, and I felt a bit awkward standing silently as he scanned and expertly packed my groceries. I'm an introvert myself, but while he worked, I searched for a way to connect with him.
"Perfect!" I said as he slid the last item into the bag. "What a great packing job!"
"Thank you," he said with the trace of a smile.
"That's an art!" I continued.
"It really is," he agreed, his face opening up.
"And you're an artist," I laughed appreciatively.
"You gotta do something to make work fun," he nodded as I tapped my card.
"Enjoy the rest of your day," he smiled as he handed me the bag, and I could tell he meant it.
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