politeness

I was at a local grocery store recently, with about 12 items in my basket. There were two lanes open and the people in them had full carts. I glanced over at the self-checkout and then recalled seeing somewhere that it should be used for 10 items or less. Now this may not have given most people pause, but I’m a rigid rule follower, so I decided to wait in line. The clerk tending the self-service area then waved me over, setting me up at one of the stations. He asked if I had done the self-checkout before and I said yes, but he proceeded to take out my items, scan them, and bag them – at a pace much faster than I manage, as well. Within minutes I was on my way.

Sure, maybe he was just bored and wanted something do to. But he certainly could have ignored me standing in the line. He also could have walked away when I told him I had done the procedure before. I can’t tell you how much this relatively simple act of helpfulness buoyed my spirits. In a city where checkers sometimes don’t even make eye contact with customers – in fact, I’ve had them carry on a conversation with someone else while moving me through – a little bit of attention goes a long way.

But it’s not just store clerks, it’s people in general who seem to have lost the human touch. Ironically, with so many new ways to communicate, people seem more wrapped up in their own little worlds than ever. The simple act of holding a door for someone; moving to one side in a crowded aisle or on a crowded sidewalk; saying “Excuse me” or “Thank you,” seem to have gone the way of rotary phones and 8-track players. I’m not talking about such antiquated notions as men holding doors for women -- but on that subject, why can’t men and women hold doors for others? (One woman in my apartment building saw me heading toward the elevator after her, but got on and didn’t hold the door for the extra 10 seconds it took me to arrive. Was she really in that much of a hurry?) And going back to the store for a moment, it works both ways: try giving the clerk a smile and a “Hello.” Maybe you’ve had a long day or a bad morning, but maybe he or she has too.

It’s bad enough that we so often have to deal with computerized systems when we call “help” lines (and yes, I use that term loosely). Have we gotten so accustomed to maneuvering through the emotionless, unfeeling world of electronics and automation that we’re losing our ability to interact with humans?

There are definitely days that being nice is a struggle: I’m not saying I’m one of those people who always has a kind word for everyone, although I do my best to keep the unkind words in my head or at least under my breath. It’s not my nature to be confrontational. I was raised not only to not rock the boat but to not even stand up in it unless it was safely docked at the pier. So I don’t usually mind being the one to step aside when the two people coming toward me don’t want to break their conversation for one to slip behind the other for a few seconds. I’ll step aside to let the businessman in a big hurry get on the bus first. I bite my tongue and bide my time waiting for the cashier to finish her conversation before she waits on me. But when a simple act of kindness can make me feel a thrill, I have to wonder: When did it become the exception rather than the rule for people to be polite?

By the way, later that day I spoke with an actual person on one of those help lines. She managed to completely erase the warm feelings from the morning. But I said “thank you” when I hung up instead of the less gracious phrases that came to mind.

LH