People think first meetings are important.
They are. Just not always for the reasons you expect.
I meet this guy in a coffee shop. Twenty-something. Hoodie. Backpack that’s seen better days. Sitting there like he’s waiting for something but doesn’t know what.
He orders coffee like it’s a tactical decision. Changes his mind halfway through. Apologizes to the barista even though nothing bad happened.
Obvious signs.
I sit down without asking. Because if someone’s going to stare at the wall that hard, they’re either hiding something or thinking too much.
We talk. Not about anything important at first. Coffee. Noise. Why every table wobbles no matter where you go.
Then he starts asking questions.
Not normal questions. The kind where you can tell he’s tracking patterns instead of listening for answers.
I tell him, “Careful, compa. You look like someone who notices too much and finishes too little.”
He laughs. Too fast. Which tells me everything.
He’s got ideas stacked on ideas. Half-plans. Almost-decisions. A whole mess of things he keeps circling instead of committing to.
I tell him, “You ever notice how people who think a lot spend most of their time arguing with themselves?”
He looks personally attacked.
Which means I’m right.
I finish my coffee and stand up.
I tell him one last thing.
“You’re not lost,” I say. “You’re just taking the long way around everything. Figure it out. Finish something. Or I’ll keep showing up to remind you.”