I donated blood this week for the third time this year. At 47 years old, donating blood isn’t that bad. I don’t particularly like the process, and will never get used to getting poked by a needle, but it’s one that is medically necessary for me and serves the community.
When your donation is complete, they ask you to sit at a table covered in snacks and bottles of water for a short period of time to ensure that you aren’t experiencing any side effects from the donation.
Normally I just want to get out of there, so I sit as far off to the side as possible and try to sneak out unnoticed the first chance I get.
This time I chose a different path.
There are definitely times when I enjoy engaging with people, and other times I’d rather not. Post blood donation usually falls into the latter category.
I sat down at the table with one other person, an older gentleman.
We initially exchanged surface-level pleasantries, the kind of filler chit-chat that helps to pass the time but does very little to reveal who you are to the person you are speaking with.
Typical topics in this category include: the weather, last night’s sports scores, or anything banal about the recent experience.
I found myself in the mood to find the “why” behind this conversation and take it a layer or two deeper.
Attempting to get beneath the surface in a conversation with someone you’ve never met before carries with it some risks, mainly the fact that this person may have no interest in engaging in any conversation with you, let alone one which requires any effort.
That risk carries the potential for a greater reward: the opportunity to get to know someone at a deeper level.
I’ve found that surface level conversations do nothing but fill space. There is nothing fulfilling about them and they do nothing to improve your mood or outlook.
But when you get the opportunity to go one or two levels below the surface, you get to see someone for who they are at their core. You see what they value, what they cherish. You can receive inspiration, be humbled, or get motivated.
There is a potential richness to a deeper conversation that often outweighs the risk you take going into it.
So I sat at that table with this man, and opened up a snack-sized packet of Cheez-It crackers, with the intention of going below the surface with this conversation.
To my delight, it was quickly apparent this was within his comfort zone.
We initially exchanged hellos, and then he looked at my shirt, purchased on a trip to Zion National Park last September, and asked if I had been to the park.
I replied that I’ve been there twice, once with the entire family and most recently on a couples trip for just my wife and I. I told him how much I love the park and some of the different hikes we did while there.
I told him that we love Zion also because of its proximity to Bryce Canyon National Park, my favorite of the parks we have visited. Bryce, to me, serves as a reminder of the reward available when you are patient.
Patience, in the case of Bryce Canyon, took 55 million years.
The man smiled as I told him this. He then told me that he and his wife valued travel as a family and always took their children on one big, family trip a year. They’ve been out west (the only state he hasn’t seen extensively is Oregon), they’ve been to Caribbean Islands, they’ve been all over Europe.
He is retired now, after serving as the principal at a local high school following years as a teacher in that same district. His children live far enough away that it takes extensive planning and a plane ride to reach them and his grandchildren. He chuckled a bit when admitting that he and his wife now use their trips to visit their children and grandchildren as a way to tack on another adventure.
He told me all of this with a smile on his face. I could feel the joy he was expressing when talking about these trips they took and, most importantly, why they took them.
I wanted to ask why he and his wife, now also retired, decided to remain in New Jersey. I wanted to know why they didn’t take the adventure life and make it their full-time manner of living now that they don’t have any attachment to the area.
But I let that go, because I was so fixed on how much his life and the way he and his wife raised their family mirrors how my wife and I aim to raise ours.
We value travel immensely, it is one of our core family values. My wife will tell anyone, “I work as much as I do so that we have money to travel.”
We also aim to take one big trip per year.
After what was probably less than ten minutes, he said goodbye, stood up, and left. I think it is very unlikely that I will ever see him again.
That short conversation had left me uplifted, even excited for my future. I had the opportunity to connect with and learn something about a total stranger. I was able to see parallels between his life and mine, and I was encouraged to walk away with the thought that we are doing something right.
These opportunities to connect with strangers can appear multiple times each day.
Yet the opportunity to connect more deeply with the people already in our lives, family, friends, even co-workers and customers, comes even more often.
This was a topic in the mastermind I am leading for a group of New Jersey swimming coaches: how going one layer deeper with communication can shift everything. How this doesn’t just build understanding, it also builds trust and you become someone worth following. The relationship can go from transactional to transformational, and this opportunity is available in any setting.
This reminded me of something I wrote in May.
Back then I wrote about The Best Advice I’ve Ever Received, how getting to know the people around you, in any situation, can pay dividends down the road. That idea applies just as much in moments where you're not trying to network or make a business connection, just sitting with someone for ten minutes, hearing part of their story, and walking away inspired.
That kind of moment only happens when you are willing to go a layer or two deeper.