Daisy Jones at British Vogue:

“Oh my God, heyyy”

Four words I dread hearing, delivered this time at a train station. I spin around. There’s a girl in front of me: similar age, dark hair, face that could be described as “vaguely familiar”. Or maybe she just looks like someone I should be friends with.

“How are you doing?” She says that last part as if she’s dying to know.

“Oh heyyy,” I respond in the same tone. “Yeah, great thanks, you?”

“Really well. I just got the keys to my new art studio, so that’s quite exciting.” I make a mental note of “art studio”. She makes art. My first contextual clue.

“It’s so important to have your own space,” I reply. “I would actually love to have my own office one day.” If I keep talking, I think, she’ll never know. She’ll never know that I have no idea who she is.

I have encounters just like this on a regular basis. Last week I was at a professional conference and had several encounters like this every day. Fortunately, people at conferences wear name-badges.