May I Ask You a Question?

I like to interview people. A lot. This morning after conducting interviews for a couple of stories I got the hugest rush. It all started when I was a wee frequent flying lassie who took great delight in chatting up my seatmates. I asked what they did for a living, where they were going, and if it was for business or pleasure. Sometimes I inquired if they had any candy or gum. That’s one cheery outcome of being a kid with divorced parents.

I constantly ask questions but hopefully not in that annoying or interrogating way. I’m just genuinely fascinated with (almost) everyone I meet. Where did you grow up? What was your first concert? Have you been to Kansas? Why are you wearing a boa? That’s not to say that I want to read all 22 of your daily tweets about your iced coffee urges or likelihood that you’ll take a nap. That’s why I’ll stop following you.

Unless you have candy or gum.