The other day my wife and I were in Ikea looking for a dresser for our bedroom. We both love Ikea for its simplicity and clean lines. Our place isn't very big so the furniture allows us to fill up our space without it appearing cluttered. After finding the perfect dresser, I wandered off alone to find an accessory at my wife's request.
While walking the massive halls of the Ikea warehouse, I was approached by a very pleasant couple from India. The man approached me holding a weird contraption and asked if I knew what it was. I picked it up and we toiled over the tiny silver bucket with wooden handle and surmised that it was some sort of a garlic press. He smiled at my theory and shook his head in agreement. Both he and his wife on cue remarked with a animated, "Oh..." They thanked me and immediately started a very nonchalant conversation with me. They asked if I shopped at Ikea often and what I thought about the furniture. I told them what any man who has bought any item from Ikea is sure to agree with, "The furniture is great but putting it together is a bear!" We all laughed and they continued to ask me questions. I cheerfully answered and was just as curious about their lives as they were mine. I found out that the man, Eric (changed to protect the innocent) was a small business owner and his wife Lisa (also changed) was an India-trained dentist. She was a few months pregnant and they were both eagerly anticipating (and a bit anxious) about their first child's arrival. I told them I had three and received the same response as the discovery of the garlic press.
The conversation was so genuine and so intriguing. I found Melissa and introduced her to my new found friends. I caught her up on what I learned and we made small talk before exchanging phone numbers and promising to meet up over coffee.
As we left Ikea, my wife and I remarked on how refreshing it was to meet new people who were so interesting and so interested in us. This has been a rare occurrence for us and we eagerly anticipated an opportunity to hang out with them. Then the ugly creature doubt crept up my spine and into the conversation. I quickly tamed the beast and even remarked to my wife how cool they seemed. She agreed and I planned on blogging about the encounter and chastising myself for instant cynicism.
Then, twenty-hours later the call from Eric, my Ikea friend came.
Eric: Hello Anthony this is Eric, we met at Ikea yesterday.
Me: Oh Eric, hello I'm so glad you called. How is your wife?
Eric: She's great, I called because we had so much fun talking to you and your wife, Melissa.
Me: So did we. We were just saying how cool it was to meet such interesting people. So what's up?
Eric: Well, I know you said you guys are already working but we have this very exciting opportunity we would like to share with you.
Me: I'm sorry?
Eric: Like I said the other day, my wife and I have our own business and we are looking for business partners who are interested in turning a small investment into a huge return. Anthony, many investors have seen as much as a 150% return on their initial investment. That could mean hundreds of dollars of residual income for you and your family. Does this sound like something you and your wife would be interested in?
Me: Um...yeah I guess?
Eric: Well Anthony, I want to get you involved as soon as possible so you and your wife don't miss this opportunity. When can we meet and talk?
Me: Um...let me talk to my wife and I'll call you back later this week.
Eric: Sounds good Anthony, how about you call me on Thursday or Friday?
Me: Yeah, sure.
So was I justified to believe that strangers don't approach other strangers for the rare possibility of making a new friend? Honestly, I was so bummed that our "chance" meeting was nothing more than a well executed sales canvass that the cynic in me returned. I allowed the beast to roam free in my mind and I instantly was turned off by the whole encounter. My wife and I don't have a lot of close friends and looked forward to the opportunity to make new neutral couple friends.
Ever the optimist I want to believe that my loss of faith in the genuine nature of people is temporary and completely unjustified. I want to believe that Eric and his wife are a fluke and the world is filled with people who want nothing more than to get to know new people. Of course, as most pots that point out the color of neighboring kettles, I have yet to approach an interesting looking person and introduce myself.
My wife mentioned the other day that we could use a new coffee table so maybe we'll try again at finding ourselves some Ikea friends.
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