Speak to a person

 That's what my mother used to say to me from the time I was a toddler.  She would take me to old age homes to sing for ancient residents from the time I was four.  I had to "perform" and I did.  Although I didn't want to, she used to insist I walk in with her, smile and talk to old, wrinkled ladies.  From her, I learned how to be a conversationalist -- a skill which stood me in good stead when I was a journalist in Toronto.  

I worked for Maclean Hunter on a number of business publications, such as 'Home Goods Retailing', 'Office Equipment and Methods' and even 'Chatelaine', 'Miss Chatelaine' and 'The Financial Post'.  It was expected that I would go to a conference in, say, the Royal York Hotel and walk up to 350 strangers, introduce myself and..."speak to a person".  I was very successful in those jobs because of my mother's admonition that I step up.  Actually, the only reason I left Toronto and a successful career in journalism was because my then-husband wanted to start a business in Ottawa.  Guess I wasn't ready to divorce him, but I did.  By that time, however, I had had two kids and moving back to TO was not an option.

 Anyway, this all came back to me today when we went out to lunch.  I ordered a vodka martini and was once again dismayed at the non-martini glass in which it was served.  Why has the traditional martini glass vanished?  This glass is NOT a martini glass:

Doesn't even feel as if one is drinking a martini.  Sigh.  But, back to "speaking to a person".  I chatted up the server, as I always do, asking her her name, where she went to school, what sports she did, all about her family....etc., etc.  When the bill came, she had compted all the food!  "You guys were such a pleasure to serve," she said.  Whoa!  I guess it pays to "speak to a person", Lilly.  Thank you and Rest in Peace.  xo