I’ve had the same mailman for twelve years. I used to talk to him. Our interactions always go the same way:
Cheerily, I greet him, “Good afternoon!”
“Is it?” he replies.
“Thank you!” I said when he handed me the mail instead of putting it in the box.
“It’s my job. And you’re closer than your mailbox anyway.”
In an attempt to focus him on a positive, I say, “Wow! You’ve got the perfect day for walking your route, don’t you! 62 degrees and sunny, without too much breeze.”
“I hadn’t noticed. I’m struggling with a crippling flare up of gout. But you need your mail, so here I am.”
My mailman sees hundreds of the same people every day, for years. He has ample opportunity to connect, to enjoy, to have an impact, and to make a difference.
He has chosen not to.
He is his work.