When the Bakery Remembered My Name

When my job transferred me to Pittsburgh this year, my contacts list there was exactly zero. For the first few weeks, the only conversations I had outside the office were with the woman at the bakery on the corner, where I bought a roll every morning.

On my third Monday, I walked in and she said, "Morning, Nadia, the usual?" She'd remembered my name from my credit card.

I don't know why that made me so happy. I nearly cried over a sesame roll. I started staying a few minutes longer to chat. She introduced me to her daughter, who invited me to a trivia night, where I met the people who are now my closest friends here.

All because someone remembered my name. I make a point of learning names now. You never know what you're starting.