I recently flew out to Denver, Colorado for a friend’s wedding and to visit my wife’s brother. My wife and I left the kids with grandparents and spent a long weekend enjoying the vibe of the city and the beauty of the Rockies. It was an amazing trip.
Of course, nothing’s perfect. We went out for brunch one morning to enjoy a good meal before heading north to Carter Lake. The restaurant was slammed. We were lucky to get a table.
A young woman rolled up to us in a giant ball of stress and asked my wife what she wanted to drink.
When she replied, “Just water for me,” the waitress nodded and left. There were three others at the table left blinking, confused, at one another. Some of them (me!) hadn’t had a drop of coffee yet that morning.
A few minutes later a teenage girl in a cook’s apron returned with a pitcher of water. “Sorry, we’re like totally slammed today,” she said. “I don’t usually do this but the servers are wigging out.”
That was when she poured water directly onto the table in front of me.
The night before, at the wedding, a guy a few years my younger turned away from his conversation to flash me a grin and stuck his hand out. I shook it, initiating the ritual of figuring out how we were each connected to the newlyweds.
He was the bride’s realtor, and had helped her find a house in one of the most difficult buyers’ markets in the country today. He asked me how my trip was going. I told him Denver was beautiful and I could stand to live under a mountain or two. He was friendly and easy-going. It was clear that he enjoyed what he did for a living.
“When you decide to move here you already have a realtor,” he said, raising his glass.
I returned home to Indiana to ponder how some people are thrown into positions they shouldn’t be in, like a nervous cook at a diner’s table, while others take to their post like birds to flight, selling their wares almost as an extension of themselves.
I’m thankful to be in the latter position. Doing what I love means I’m comfortable asking important questions and making helpful suggestions. It means I could just as easily generate content ideas for you in casual party conversation as I would in a formal consultation. It comes naturally.
In other words, Matthew C. Bloom is that good copywriter in Indiana you’ve been looking for. Let me know how I can help you. The work is fun. It’s my pleasure.
And I promise I won’t spill anything on you.