Complimenting Strangers and Friends

I was working in my favorite coffee shop a few months ago when two people walked in with super unique hair. I noticed immediately. This was before I cut my own hair on a whim one afternoon, though I had admittedly been thinking about it for a bit. Perhaps it was this combination of things—my considering my own hair style and the undeniable coolness of the new coffee shop patrons—that made me tickled when they sat at the table next to mine. 

I thought about saying something. I’m seldom shy around sharing compliments. But for reasons unclear to me, I stayed silent and went back to my work. Until I heard them talking. Upon getting their drinks, the first topic of conversation was how they needed haircuts and were so over what their hair currently looked like. 

I slowed my typing to listen in. One said that it just wasn’t working for them anymore. The other said something about bangs. They proceeded to talk about the haircuts for a good 30 minutes. Did they like the barbershop they went to last time? Did they want to change the color? Should they just do it themselves? They spoke with the trivial frustration that hairstyle decisions can bring.

Eventually and with no clear next step regarding their hair, they left. I had wanted to compliment their hair the moment they walked in, but after hearing them talk about it in such dejected tones, I stayed silent. Typing this now, I wonder if I should have said something… something about how I loved their hair and how I noticed it immediately. How I’m super lazy with my hair and usually just end up cutting it myself and hoping for the best. How sometimes I wish I could pull off their style. 

Even still, as I sat down to write this, I realized that I can’t for the life of me remember what it was about their hair that I liked so much. The color. The cut. The confidence? I couldn’t tell you. But what did stick with me from this early morning encounter was how many compliments we swallow. And how the thing we want to compliment could be someone’s pain point.

I ultimately didn’t say anything because I didn’t want them to think I was complimenting their hair after they’d been complaining about it. I wanted to tell them that I liked it before I knew they didn’t. 

So why even wait then? I’m not suggesting I jump this couple of strangers the moment they entered the cafe in a case of guerilla positivity. But what about other people in my life?

I can’t help myself from thinking beautiful things about every single person I know. This friend has a warmth about them that makes everyone feel comfortable and welcome, whether you’ve known them for 20 minutes or 20 years. This friend has an unmatched thoughtfulness, always remembering small details and showing up for their community in quiet, unassuming ways. This friend perfectly mixes big ideas with practical reality, being unafraid to dream while also staying grounded in the world around them. I randomly picked 3 real, personal friends to write this paragraph. I could probably write 100 more like it.

Which is to say that if I’m thinking these things, perhaps I should say these things. Perhaps the friend who makes everyone feel comfortable and welcome has been struggling to find their place at a new job or in a new city. Or perhaps the person who is super thoughtful is struggling with finding time to take care of and prioritize their own wellbeing. And maybe our dreamer is feeling dejected, burnt out, or just plain tired.

Wouldn’t it be nice for them to hear that someone sees them? That someone recognizes how hard they work or how well they listen or how much they care. 

I suppose I don’t have much more to say here. I guess the moral is something like “you might be insecure about your hair but someone might think it’s really cool.” Or maybe it’s just to tell them. To spread kindness in all the ways that we can. Every single day.