The 90-Minute Smile: An Essay On Human Connection

I walked home from the local grocery store when I heard the millennial brouhaha. It was just a Monday. I use the word “just” to emphasize the dismissive nature of Mondays. Mondays are for the birds. The bar was unusually Monday-full of flirtatious high fives for team USA soccer. Television, music, and empty chatter filled the disposable time for these strangers. The effort of time dedicated to that night’s someone. For a Monday, that’s worth the fist pump.

My time is so special in fact, that when I ask, “how are you,” while continuing to walk the hall, I fully intend for a one-word response. With “good” I can continue on my day and you with yours. This concise communication, eh, preset programming allows our day to continue, uninterrupted. Nothing about this meaningless conversation connects us with humanity. The more automated responses we suffer, the less human and more robotic we become.

Without saying ‘hello’, I called my best friend from college. I dove right into a complicated question, “Do you feel like you’re on the right path, moving up in your world, doing what you’re supposed to do — Yet on a daily basis you have nothing to show for it?” I did not anticipate the response would provoke a conversation, eh, connection. We chatted about the struggle of Mondays, books that keep us full, and “what would you do with a million and half open face sandwiches?” I paced my apartment emphasizing punch lines with unseen hand gestures. A satisfied smile smeared my face during a heated debate on something or other. Curiosity after curiosity explored. This 90-minute conversation was as insignificant as it was powerful in a connection between two humans. It gave me the feeling we were in the same room…and I told him that.