"He replied that bad manners always made him sick; but was it any worse than headlining foreign monarchs by their Christian names, untitled?" -- Dorothy L. Sayers, Gaudy Night (Lord Peter Wimsey)
Manners, my dear ladies and gentlemen, seem to be in short supply these days. There is something about this modern hurry-scurry, free-for-all, leave-it-to-the-dogs atmosphere that generates a shocking amount of rudeness. I don't mean to say that people have merely forgotten which fork to use for salad, or what sort of tie to wear to what sort of dinner, or which title to use for foreign monarchs; these niceties have all but evaporated into thin air, or into expensive, exclusive cosmopolitan circles. Rather, words such as "please," "thank you," and "sorry" -- once an expected and natural part of common interaction -- are vanishing more quickly than the white tiger.
Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. How difficult is it? You spill a drink on someone. You interrupt another's conversation. You want to order your venti decaf soy caramel macchiato, like, right NOW, 'cuz you've gotta get to class and you can't run fast enough in your ten-inch heels. PEAAA-PPPELLLLLLLL ......
First of all, you shouldn't be wearing ten-inch heels. But unfortunately, it's a free country, and you're entitled to your stupidity.
UNFORTUNATELY for you, however, you are NOT entitled to rudeness.
BOOYAH!
[CONSCIENCE: Catherine, that was rude. And definitely not ginger.
CATHERINE: Oh. Was it really ... ?
CONSCIENCE: 'fraid so.
CATHERINE: sigh ...]
Sorry, that was rude.
[CONSCIENCE: Good job, Catherine.]
SEE? It's so easy.
[CONSCIENCE: Don't get conceited, now.]
And yes, my conscience speaks in Trebuchet. Well, at least it's better than Helevetica.
***
But I digress ...
The point is: wherever I go, I find more and more people, from complete strangers to close friends, who seem to disregard the dignity and humanity of those around them. That might sound stuffy and exaggerated, but it's true. When you speak to someone else, your manner, stance, tone of voice, facial expressions, and body language all create a setting or atmosphere for the words you use. A sharp tone or loud voice can express just as much irritation or aggression as the words "you irritate me" or "I want to slap (males: punch) your face."
Speaking impatiently to a barista or snapping back at a sales clerk shows that you don't care about her, just her product. Elbowing your way through a crowd means treating those others like walking punching bags. Rolling your eyes when a professor cracks a joke (which to you might sound dumb, but 99% of the time is actually an obscure literary reference just a little too deep for your sophomoric comprehension) shows your unbelievable immaturity, your dire lack of palate for multiple varieties of humor, and a grievous irreverence for your superiors.
It's hard. It's hard to always consider the person's dignity. It's hard to think that this droolly-eyed, acne-faced teenage boy grazing on carbs in front of the widescreen actually possesses an immortal soul, right?
Well, it shouldn't be.
Everyone has a soul. This soul has feelings, gushy and mushy as it may sound. Call them emotions, call them senses, call them what you will; I'll call them feelings. Consider those feelings; think of how your approach affects the other person. Consider how every single individual on this planet, whether behind the deli counter or executive desk, sweeping the floor or taking center stage, deserves the very minimum of respect: common courtesy.
I've never been a huge fan of the word "deserve." So many people think they "deserve" so much: college tuition, flat-screen TVs, the right to use any foul language that comes to mind. This is not what the pursuit of happiness means ... but that is for another post. In the case of simple, common courtesy, everyone deserves it.
I cannot throw stones against politeness-offenders; I stand culpable as well. I can't say that I think of others every time I should, but I do try. And I know that every time I watch someone else ignore the unspoken rules of courtesy, I pay attention the next time I am standing impatiently in line. How is the XXXL greasy-faced McGeek's burger-flipper ever to learn to stop scowling grumbling if he never sees anyone else smiling?
So. Think about it. Next time you're running late, consider setting your alarm earlier -- consider getting a simpler drink -- consider the bleary-eyed, overworked barista who only wants to go home. Smile, apologize for making her life far more complicated than necessary, and say thanks. It's common courtesy.
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