I was invited to stay the night at a friend’s house, a friend I’ve known a couple of years now. She made dinner for us, we had margaritas, took a dip in the hot tub, which made me so sleepy, I had to go straight to bed.<br />
The next morning, her husband made omelets, and we enjoyed a wonderful breakfast. We started talking about how she and I had met—that she’d reached out to me on LinkedIn to see if I knew anyone who needed a project manager. I recalled that at the time she reached out, I thought I knew her, so I gladly forwarded her name to my boss, and she got a freelance gig. It wasn’t until much later that I realized I hadn’t known her then at all. I remembered that at the time, I was so certain I knew her, there wasn’t even a question of recommending her. She said she was grateful for the opportunity that lasted over two years.<br />
So, at breakfast, we continued talking about things we had in common: we are nearly the same age, we both sing and have played the guitar, we’re both spiritually minded and independent, both had rough marriages (her first one, both of mine).