What's With The Shoes?

One step.

One moment.

One heartbeat at a time.

Heads or Tales from the lunchroom

Lunchtime is my time.

It is a time to breath, to eat, to refuel, to read, to learn, to sharpen, and to revitalize.

It is not a crammed sandwich to quiet a stomach.

I often eat by myself.

(By myself... but not alone.)

Today I found the window of time, and opportunity, to leave the building and venture down to the cafeteria down the street. Good lunch, healthy choices, good book, and a good continuation of the creative flow from the morning. Finished up my meal, saw that I had a few more minutes to read and digest in peace, and ...

// Brakes Screeching //

"...saw the empty seats, mind if I join you?"

I did not know this gentleman. I did not plan on having someone sit at my small table. But I also didn't mind learning about someone new in here, so I went with it. "Please do! Come on down..."

He had a sharpness to his appearance as I noticed the crisp tie knot, oh, and cuff links with distinction. Well put together and presentable; definitely not one of the usual flavor here.

His meal began, and my answers followed to the rhythm of his questions between bites. Attention to detail - not fluff or blank-eyed generic hot air I usually get around social media, digital marketing, innovation, or what I do in a place that doesn't (yet).

There could be an entire post split off from this one about the subject matter, but with all fairness and respect to that moment we shared, I'm keeping that to myself for now. As I mentioned before, it was sharp, it was probing, there was depth and meaning to the responses, and the follow-up questions had the meat of the matter with them. It was refreshing to say the very least.

The gentleman finished his meal. He thanked me for the engaging conversation, for the company, and asked for my name. I gave him my personal business card. I'd love to tell you that I gave him my business card from my business, but business isn't the logo on the card, the big building you work in, or the job title under your name. My card was my card that I share with trusted connections, and I was glad to share it.

We shook hands.

We went our separate ways.

Ends up that "the stranger" was a C-level member of our leadership team in the U.S.

His title didn't matter.

The conversation did.