An Encounter at the Checkout Counter

"Good afternoon, sir. How was your day?" A young teller at Dis-Chem engaged me as I placed my items on the conveyor belt. Let's call him Tebogo, a dreamer with a sparkle in his eyes.

Most people don't have the time or energy for small talk at the end of a long day. They often respond with a simple grunt or a tired comment to be polite. But Tebogo's genuine curiosity caught me off guard.

"I had a great day," I replied with equal enthusiasm. "And how about you?"

I couldn't quite read his reaction. Perhaps he was surprised that someone had responded so warmly to his question. It struck me that my attire, a plain, smart-casual outfit, might not align with the typical expectations of a therapist. But as a therapist, I didn't pay much attention to my clothing.

"Are you an accountant, uncle?" Tebogo asked, showing a sign of respect for my age.

"I'm a therapist," I replied. People often assume I'm a physical therapist or something else entirely. My hair is locked. ?"A kind of shrink, if you know what I mean. I help people live their lives in the best way possible."

"Can I ask you a question?" Tebogo inquired.

"Of course," I replied, genuinely curious about what was on his mind. It wasn't every day that someone sought my advice at the checkout counter. I'd had conversations with people on buses, in waiting rooms, and at cafes about their life dilemmas, and my response was usually to listen with interest and respect.

"I want to quit this job and pursue an entrepreneurial opportunity, but my mother won't let me," Tebogo confessed. "She's worried about me."

As Tebogo continued to scan my merchandise, he skilfully kept the conversation flowing. He seemed reluctant to hand over my items without a proper exchange.

"Do you know why your mom is so worried about you quitting this job?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.

"I don't really know," Tebogo admitted.

"It's understandable that you might not be sure," I replied. "But if you had to guess, what do you think might be some of the reasons your mother is concerned?"

?

"I think she's afraid my business might fail, and then I'd be jobless," Tebogo said.

"So, she's worried about you being jobless if your entrepreneurial venture doesn't work out," I reflected back to him.

"Yes," he confirmed.

"And you want to ease her worries," I continued. "But it seems like no matter how hard you try to explain your plans, she gets anxious and advises you to focus on your current job."

"That's right," Tebogo sighed.

"Your mother's worries are reasonable," I noted. "Starting a business can be risky, and it's natural for her to be concerned about your financial security. So, what could you do to help both her and yourself in this situation?"

Tebogo paused for a moment, deep in thought. "Maybe I should come up with a solid plan for my business and share it with her. I could also ask for her input and involve her in the planning process."

"That sounds like a thoughtful approach," I said. "Having a well-thought-out plan that outlines your business goals, strategies, and contingency plans for potential setbacks can be reassuring. And involving your mother in the process can help her feel more supportive."

"Should I show her the plan in writing?" Tebogo asked.

"That might be a good idea," I replied. "A written plan can be more convincing and show that you're serious about your venture."

"Thank you for your advice, uncle," Tebogo said with a grateful smile. "Have a good evening."

As I left the store, I couldn't help but reflect on the countless young dreamers like Tebogo, full of passion and ambition but lacking guidance and support. They often receive empty motivational speeches but little practical assistance. This encounter at the checkout counter reminded me of the importance of helping those with stars in their eyes and dreams in their hearts, even in the most unexpected places. This is the story of a chance encounter that unfolded as quickly as the items were scanned and paid for, leaving me with a renewed sense of the power of open inquiry and curiosity in our interactions with others.