Pleasantries

My mother once gave me the fresh out of the can advice of, “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all” on my way back from meeting with the principal of my elementary school. Even at that young age, I snidely replied that would mean that we never spoke again. She laughed and agreed, but I meant it. I wonder how many people are rude on purpose and how many are just suffering from a butterfly effect of the last jackass that crossed their path?

I have been doing my best to change the way I treat people in my life for the past two years and I must say it has been a good thing. I go to counters, and instead of asking for my drink, I say hello and ask them how their day is going. The look dumbfounded most of the time, but usually say “fine,” and “thank you,” and then tend to get me what I want and look like they are actually trying. Amazingly, the only person that seems to not like me doing this is whatever chode is behind me wondering how they will ever get back the three seconds it took me to show so humanity to the kid in the paper hat. I often have to step on my toe not to turn around and ask how they got so damn busy that those three seconds could turn the tide of their existence, but I am trying to be a better person and that would be wrong. It would probably make me squeal with glee, but it still would be wrong.

The effect doesn’t seem to be that great, but I have noticed the memorized greeting the counter clerk has for the next person in line does have the slightest upswing in it. Often it is dashed by the person behind me, but I’m not Mother Theresa, so I don’t worry about it passing so quickly.

Where was I? Oh, right, the point of my story is, well, there is no point. Just try and be nice to the guy at the counter. Would if kill you to spare a second be pleasant and not just remind them they are trapped in a crappy job?