A few weeks ago I was running an errand around town when I happened to spot graffiti on a telephone pole. As I’ve done perhaps a hundred times, I whipped out my phone and dialed Raleigh’s Graffiti Hotline. After giving my name and the graffiti location, we got into an impromptu conversation.

“Hi Mark, this is Elaine. It’s been a while since we’ve talked.” I’ve often said half-jokingly that I’m on a first-name basis with the Graffiti Hotline staff but it’s becoming less of a joke. “How are you doing?” she asked. “Everything all right? Your job going well?”

“Oh, sure,” I answered. “I work from home now and love my job.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Elaine said. “I remember you had lost your job and I wondered how you were doing.”

I laughed, thanked her for her concern, and said goodbye. Afterward, though, I marveled at how Elaine had remembered that I’d lost my job. It was over two years ago but I obviously had mentioned it to her and it obviously had made an impression. It blew me away that someone I’ve never even met would care about that – about me and my welfare.
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