Too depressing to talk to

Estimated reading time: 2 minutes, 59 seconds

The self-serve e-ticket kiosks stood guard, protecting the airline's full-time customer service representatives from travelers.

The man stepped up to one of the machines as he fumbled paperwork. His index finger made circles on the screen, searching for something to make sense to him, for something to jump out and walk him through the daunting mechanical process that stood between him and a boarding pass.

He donned a red tank top, perfect if his goal was to highlight the wisps of hair that could have been glued to his shoulders during some sort of prank.

"I never know how these things work," he said, making sure someone could hear him.

Even though the sun was not expected to rise for another three hours, I was in a giving mood.

"Just slide your credit card into that slot and it will pull up all your information," I said, beating the airline's customer service representatives to the punch at no charge.

"Oh I don't have a credit card," he replied.

Guy doesn't have a credit card. No problem, I thought. It's probably a good idea. No credit card, no debt. Others should live as he lives. I don't, however, think the reason this guy didn’t have a credit card has anything to do with responsible spending habits. Perhaps it was his disheveled hair, his ready-for-a-trim mustache, the tank-top-with-jeans look or his inability to work the self-serve kiosk.From my vantage point, everything about this guy was depressing.

And that was before he tried to explain how he got the ticket without a credit card.

"The only reason I got this ticket was because of a family emergency," he said with a tone of voice that begged me to reply with interest. Not sympathy, just interest.

That's too bad, I thought, using the time as an excuse not to indulge the poor fellow in conversation.

"And I'm unemployed so I get to go," he added.

I'm sorry to hear that, I respond in my head although I just made a painful face and shook my head sympathetically.

At this point, the man had spoken three times to me and was an efficient 3-for-3 in depressing sentences.

I wondered what was next. What else was falling apart in this guy’s life? Had he just put his dog to sleep before coming to the airport? Did his family emergency involve him needing a liver? Did the government have him on false child pornography charges?

In my callousness, I did not request any additional information. After all, I had a gate to sit in front of for the next hour.

As I headed down the terminal, I thought about the man. I thought about how much he had going on in his life. I also thought of how easily it was for him to divulge information to strangers like me.

With my luck, the only thing I was sure of was that he would likely be seated next to me on the plane.

I was never so glad to be so tired.