"How Do I Make Friends?"

I'm wondering if there's a better question

If I were President of Planet Earth, my first law would be:

Everyone has to work in food service for at least a year.

One reason may be obvious; I strongly believe that the world would be a much sweeter place if everyone knew what it was like to work and smile hard through excruciating aches, rude customers, kitchen drama, controlling managers, low pay, and bad tips.

I would hope that this experience would inspire all my citizens, particularly the ones who enjoy belittling others, to stop treating food/retail workers like sock lint.

But there’s another reason why I’m commanding a year of Restaurant or Retail Duty for all citizens of Mari World:

You learn how to make friends there.

You learn how to make friends because you have to make friends. The restaurant is a harsh, unforgiving, overheated place and the way to survive it well is to be able to laugh together after yelling at each other all day.

Plus, you won’t just make any friends. You’ll inevitably meet people from bad pasts, no pasts, never-to-be-mentioned pasts, who, as Anthony Bourdain says, find family in the kitchen.

He writes:

You can always tell when a person has worked in a restaurant. There's an empathy that can only be cultivated by those who've stood between a hungry mouth and a $28 pork chop, a special understanding of the way a bunch of motley misfits can be a family.

In cafes I’ve worked with former prisoners, recent immigrants, high school dropouts, and PhD students alike. You hear stories you’ll never forget, and collect communication skills you’ll always remember. (My dad, for instance, picked up fluent Spanish by working as a dishwasher in a kitchen for a season.)

You may have heard the term ‘family meal,’ which refers to food the restaurant staff eats together outside of business hours, an off-menu concoction of leftover ingredients. Eating together puts staff on equal footing, when all are sharing the same table, seated eye to eye.

‘The Bear’ hit a little too close to home for many of us who have worked in food service, but accurately portrayed the intimacy of kitchen kinship.

While it’s rarely as harmonious a gathering as the cheery name implies, but the point is that it happens. Let’s discuss this:

The word companion replaced a word meaning ‘fellow traveler’ in the 14th century, and comes from the Latin: “someone to eat bread with.”

Contrast that with the word friend, which comes all the way from the Proto-Indo-European (that’s really old) phrase “to love.” In Old English, the word carried an extra implication of emotional attachment and fondness.

The line cooks may not have been my friends exactly, but at the table, they were my companions.

Literally my companions, if you’re using the word in the Ancient Rome sense.

And I’m wondering if this sort of companionship may help guide the current discourse on making friends, which, according to the internet, seems to be variations of:

“It’s hard to make friends as an adult, possibly because we’re all at different stages of life.”

Anecdotally I can add that whenever I’ve done any Q&A, live or online, I always get the question “How do I make friends as an adult?”

I just asked Google, and apparently all these thousands of articles just aren’t cutting it…

I never have an answer either, mainly because I had such a hard time making friends as a child/teen that adult friendships are a breeze by comparison. And every time I blink, it seems that my 73-year-old mom has a new set of friends! The narrative doesn’t fit either of us.

But I also wonder if it’s the wrong question.

I was listening to an interview recently with a powerful creative woman known for her wisdom (let’s call her Oprah) (it wasn’t Oprah) and my ears flapped with excitement when she was asked about her tips for making friends. I was sure she would have a phenomenal answer that I could steal, and then give to others in order to seem wise myself.

“Join a book club,” Oprah suggested.

And I could feel my ears droop.

REALLY? I grimaced. A book club? That’s your answer, Oprah?!

It’s a suggestion I’ve read in so many “Tips for Making Friends” lists that it’s almost a joke at this point. Not to mention how patronizing it probably sounds to someone who has tried everything (“just put yourself out there!”). Not to mention how I am probably the strangest possible version of myself in a book club because I’m dead-set on impressing others, so that would be a horrible place for me to make friends!

Then I realized, “How do I make friends?” just isn’t a great question, so it’s not going to get a great answer. Even from Oprah!

Perhaps we need to cool it with the friendship talk.

Perhaps we need to focus on companionship.

Going back to the etymology of the two words, “friend” involves love and emotional attachment. “Companion” is simply someone you eat with.

A depiction of companionship by Carmen Lomas Garza

Perhaps the issue is that we’re so intent on making friends that we forget all about companions. Not necessarily the eating-with kind, but the sharing-time-with kind.

I don’t know how you make friends!

But I do know how to make a companion, because I learned at Family Table. Here are my tips:

Assume connection

It may be important to you that your friends are “in the same place of life as you are,” whatever that means for you (though I urge you to consider the marvel of intergenerational friendships).

But maybe it’s less important that your companions are.

I’m thinking of one family table that included a solemn and studious single mom, a party-going grandmother, a part-time professional polo player, and a mysterious middle-aged chef whose tattoos never betrayed any personal details. I wouldn’t call any of us “in the same place of life.”

In food service, people whose Venn diagram circles run in opposite directions at the sight of each other are often forced to work intimately together. I never expected to have much in common with my coworkers, but I always expected to find some way in.

Whether I learned it from Family Table or lots of moving around the world, I’ve come to always expect that I’ll find connection with a stranger. If I’m wrong, it’s a surprise, but connection is the default assumption.

If you assume that you and a stranger will hit it off, it’s a fun treasure hunt to see where that gemstone of connection is.

If you assume you won’t because the stranger’s hairstyle suggests they voted differently than you or because they’re wearing the t-shirt of a band you hate, then may I suggest an extra year in food service?

Table for Ladies by Edward Hopper

Give presence

Oddly enough, I’m less present if I’m trying to make a friend than if I’m merely companion-ing.

If I view someone as a potential companion rather than a potential friend (ie. loved one, no pressure!), I’m much less likely to direct our interaction toward my own endgame. Unconsciously, I may have a rigid idea of what would make a good friend for me. But a companion? I’ll take anybody!

While chatting with fellow cafe coworker during a slow period, listlessly folding napkins or leaning against counters like a couple of carriage horses in repose, I gave full attention to their back story and big dreams. With a companion, there’s no agenda, no need to fill silent space, no temptation to exaggerate or downplay.

Some of the most vivid conversations I’ve ever had took place while two were simply accompanying each other as the time went by, taking bites of the same unsold pastry and sharing words that meant nothing and everything.

The Music Lesson by Jacob Lawrence

Create a container

A reason why I could be so present to my fellow server or pastry chef is because our relationship had a container: a physical place, a set amount of time, and a specific way to relate. That structure and list of tacit rules provided more leeway for intimacy, since the stakes were low.

As soon as our shift ended, so would our interaction.

It reminds me of the “Men invented [traditionally-cis-male-activity] as an excuse to [intimately connect] with other men” meme, which pokes fun at the ways that men have cleverly used their own ‘containers’ to interact with each other as women do.

This is why “meeting for coffee” can be torturous (the choosing where to sit song-and-dance alone…), whereas “attending an outdoor AcroBalance class” might be a piece of cake.

The Floor Scrapers by Gustave Caillebotte

Embrace chapters

We get in our own way every time we think of anything in life as linear.

Human relationships ebb and flow just like everything—especially so, because humans are comically fickle.

Two besties who once talked on the phone every day may fall out of touch, only to reconnect as Wordle competitors on Facebook three decades later. An acquaintance from your old frisbee team may come out of the woodwork when they heard you’re sick, and suddenly become a close confidante. Groups of pals pair off and rearrange. Even lifelong friendships loose their elasticity like an overstretched rubber band every once in a while.

Solid, long-term best friendship is a wonderful concept, but rare. I’ve found it much more fulfilling to collect companions over my various chapters and appreciate our high and low tides as inevitable given that we are all 60% water.

When I get caught up in linear thinking, I imagine my life as a big old book with thin pages like a great-grandparent’s Bible, and start assigning chapters every few pages with clever titles. Then I can embrace certain people in my life as companions for a chapter, rather than lamenting that they haven’t popped up on every page.

Easing Back by Adrian Tomine

Be there, literally

I was once talking to a colleague, let’s call her Oprah, who was constantly bemoaning her lack of friends.

Yet, she spent an equal amount of time complaining when she had any plans whatsoever, and often ended up canceling on any social obligation that interfered with her treasured hobby of ordering takeout and watching Bravo shows (zero judgment whatsoever on this hobby).

“Friends aren’t just going to show up at your door, Oprah!” I reminded her. It was as though she wanted people to call her friends, but didn’t want to have to interact. The idea made us both laugh, but Oprah agreed.

The genius of Family Meal is that you have to be there. Whether or not you’re in the mood, you’re going to be sharing bread with these weirdos and you might as well engage with them. Over time, the consistency of companionship had no choice but to transform into a version of friendship.

In the age of online ‘friendships’ which are both extremely convenient and extremely at your leisure, IRL relationships may seem like a lot of work. They’re going to require actually being there, literally. You may find yourself en route and wishing you’d canceled, but that’s not how Oprah ultimately made friends.

Companions are often more consistent than friends (I see my baristas 10x more than I see my best friends) and have something to teach us about frequent face-to-face interactions.

by Ezra Jack Keats

Open up

A final secret: many companions turn into friends! They key is being open to all types of companionships, and giving them your full presence.

For friendspiration, here are ways I’ve met a few of my best friends:

• I worked at a boutique, she was a customer. Thirteen years older than I and thirteen times more chic, I was shocked when she one day asked me for styling advice. If it weren’t for the complexity of a strappy jumpsuit, I wouldn’t have the most essential empath in my life.

• I worked at the worst job ever when I was 25, the kind of job that routinely makes you cry in the bathroom. I trauma-bonded with a couple fantastic people there, and one of them introduced me via email to her sister because we both liked talking about lipstick. Now, the sister of a coworker at the worst job is one of my longest and closest friends.

• I loved his art, and asked if he wanted to meet up when I was in town. What I thought would be a one-off chat about illustration turned into one of my greatest platonic love stories.

• We shared a cab from a hostel to a mall in Santiago, Chile to buy phone cards. Fortunately for our friendship, smart phones wouldn’t be invented for another two years.

Some companions-turned-friends below:

Making this friendship collage two years ago is the absolute extent of my technical abilities

If you have questions about friendship, ask them here! I’ll be answering them in a future post for paying subscribers. :)

And let me know in the comments: Where have you met your companions? Dare I ask, was it at a book club??