‘Sprinkled among every walk of life, in other words, are a handful of people with a truly extraordinary knack of making friends and acquaintances. They are Connectors.’

 Malcom Gladewell waxes eloquent about connectors, a term and yet I wonder how praiseworthy the term really is. I mean think about it and connector is just the means to an end, never the end itself, the road to a destination, never the aim. What the heck is complimentary about it?  It connects others but whom does it connect to? It reminds me at best of a catalyst which changes others yet stays immutable itself and at worst of the legendary sorcerer’s stone which turned everything it touched to gold, yet remained a worthless stone itself. What good is a connector I ask if it cannot connect to those it wants, in the way it wants? Connectors, just another blasted sequence in the seemingly endless one a sadistic fate throws at us chortling evilly in the background as we stumble and fumble!