Throughout my technical career, I’ve enjoyed countless egg rolls, sushi rolls, beers, and wines at local bars and restaurants. Along the way, I’ve met many fascinating people, but one individual stands out: my boss. Brilliant yet eccentric, he was the driving force behind an Enterprise Resource Planning integration project I was brought on to support. One day, he summoned me to his office, visibly disturbed, and asked for my advice.

To summarize his story: his wife was out of town, and he took their six-month-old baby to a bar. After indulging a bit too much, he returned home to find his wife had come back a day early. She was furious and confronted him, demanding a divorce.

Honestly, I knew I wasn’t the right person to give him advice. It became clear that what he really needed was someone to listen to his complaints. “What a big deal!” he exclaimed. So, I simply told him, “You already know what you should do. Just follow your heart.”

I guessed he hadn’t gotten a divorce, and I became his designated listener. From time to time, he would call me into his office, and gradually, I learned his entire life story. He had been raised by strict, highly intelligent parents. One thing he shared, which I found both funny and sad, stuck with me: “Every Friday night, our family would watch a silent film, and we weren’t allowed to talk either. My dad said it would train us to read people’s lips and minds.” It made me think about how much our society has changed. In many ways, it feels like we now live in a world reminiscent of that silent movie tradition—silent, disconnected, and focused on interpreting others without truly connecting.

People have become so lonely that they go to bars to talk to bartenders or visit hair salons to share their frustrations with hairstylists because no one else seems to listen. I’ve also realized that Google has become my best friend, answering all my questions and doubts. At times, I feel like I’ve replaced my husband with Google as my encyclopedia.