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Yesterday, I was with a small group of friends when we were joined by someone they knew.
I’d met him before, so I greeted him. But to my surprise, he didn’t return the greeting or even make eye contact. To be honest, I suddenly felt awkward, invisible, and a little bit silly.
Has that ever happened to you?
Maybe I’m more attuned to these “lost hellos” because I’ve been living in Spain, where saying hello isn’t optional—it’s automatic.
In Spain, if you walk into a shop, a lift, a restaurant, or even a waiting room, you say hola. And if you don’t? You’ll probably get a long, unimpressed stare.
It’s a small gesture, but it carries weight. Acknowledging another person is seen as a basic form of respect. Children learn it early—it’s not about manners as much as it is about human connection.
So why is it becoming rare in other places?
Is it cultural?
Is it generational?
Is it shyness?
Or lack of awareness?
I’m not suggesting we all walk around saying hello to everyone, like Crocodile Dundee in that scene where he cheerfully greets every stranger on a busy New York street. Cities have their own unspoken codes. On the London Underground, for example, silence is expected.
But I can’t help feeling that something important is slipping away.
Just yesterday, I read an article about how people are now doing their shopping with headphones in—nodding to the music as they check out, never once acknowledging the cashier. No eye contact. No smile. No “thank you.” The article described how cashiers, day after day, are left feeling like they’re invisible.
And it’s not just in shops. What about our neighbourhoods?
I live in a large village, and as I walk around, I’ve noticed that some people greet you, and some don’t. It’s usually the elderly or fellow dog walkers like me who still say hello—the ones not hunched over a phone. Sometimes, they’ll stop for a quick chat. I’m mindful that those few words, that passing exchange, might be the only human contact someone has all day. For someone who lives alone, it might be the one moment where they feel seen, acknowledged—part of something.
These small moments matter. They build connection, community, and a shared sense of presence in the world.
So what happened to hello?
I believe that while we’re more connected than ever online, we’re becoming increasingly disconnected in person. We scroll through people’s lives, double-tap their milestones, and leave heart emojis, yet we can walk past those same people in the street without saying a word.
Do you remember that photo series by Eric Pickersgill called “Removed“? He took photographs of couples, families, and friends in everyday scenes—at the dinner table, in bed, sitting together—all with smartphones in their hands. Then, he digitally removed the devices. The results were jarring. People stared into their empty palms, sat beside each other looking down, or turned slightly away—together, yet completely apart.
It was haunting. And real.
Technology isn’t the villain. Our phones aren’t inherently bad. But our habits are changing—and with them, so is our social fabric. We’re so often distracted, so inward-facing, that we forget there are people right in front of us. People who deserve a glance, a smile, a moment of recognition.
Be honest: has someone ever walked into a room you were in, said hello, and you didn’t even look up from your phone? I’ll admit, I’ve done it. And the more I notice it in others, the more I catch it in myself.
So what is so important about saying hello?
A simple hello acknowledges another person’s presence.
It says: I see you. You exist. You matter.
It can make someone feel included. It can lift someone’s mood.
It can make someone’s day.
It might even make yours.
These small moments of connection—a glance, a greeting, a nod—may seem insignificant, but they are the threads that hold us together. In a world full of noise and distraction, a simple hello is a quiet act of presence.
So next time you pass someone, even if it’s just a brief moment, consider saying hello. It costs nothing—but it could mean everything.
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