A Commuter's Conflict

There's a funny little exercise that plays out every morning when I get off the train in the morning. The gang of probably 60 people that rely on the corporate shuttle from the train station to our offices first shuffle along the train platform, wait at the crossing for our train to leave, and then herd ourselves on the 5 buses lined up on the other side of the tracks.

There is usually a morning greeting to the folks you know. Inquiry about the weekend activities. Grunt about it being only Tuesday. Brief comment about the weather.
But there's one guy who doesn't really know anyone, he's a temporary contractor, but boy, is he interested in saying hello to you. This is the funny part of the commuting ritual.

Over the past week, I've watched him eagerly introduce himself to people on the platform, people crossing the tracks with him, and then the unfortunate soul who ends up spending the 15 minute ride to the office park sitting next to him. It does not matter if it is the morning or the evening, this guy wants to be your friend.
He is kind, but has an eagerness that is disconcerting. He brings a missionary zeal to commuter pleasantries. "What's your name?" "What department do you work in?" I timidly fear that his next question might genuinely be, "Are you ready to accept Jesus Christ as your lord and savior?"

Poor guy, he's not doing anything wrong. You can probably tell I'm conflicted about this. Why be so grumpy towards someone who's just trying to be friendly? But yet, I dreaded his nearing proximity to me.

After watching him for at least 4 rides back and forth this week, I knew my solitude was running out. He'd turn to me next. It was only a matter of time. He'd spoken to nearly every other person already.

Sure enough, this morning I thought I'd made it through the ride to work unperturbed, but as I was scooping oatmeal into my little bowl in the cafeteria, a shadow lurked in the periphery.

"Hey, good morning for oatmeal isn't it?"

He got me.