“Thank you.” That’s two words, pal. Two measly little words you could have easily strung back to back but didn’t. Would it have been that difficult? I’m sure you’ve done it at least one time in your miserable little life. At any rate, I can’t tell you how much you’ve pissed me off by not uttering these one-syllable words one after the other. Proper decorum dictates that you should have, nitwit. Hell, my 4-year-old does it all the time without anyone telling her to; I’m sure somewhere within that dark recess you call a brain you could conjure up the ability to do it, too. Yeah, I’m talking to fella, the guy who couldn’t be bothered to squeak out a mere “thank you” when I held the door open, the guy who acted as if I’m your butler or personal doorman. Are you kidding me? Are you frickin’ kidding me, man? OK, since this simple gesture seems beyond your abilities, how about we make things simple for you? How about we narrow things down so even your pea-brain can get a grip on how to execute simple manners? How about we simplify matters down to the point that you only need to say, “Thanks.” Now, we’re talking one word. Think you can handle that? No? How about you just grunt or nod your bulbous head in appreciation? Or how about I hunt down your parents and point out their failings? How about you turn around right now and give me what I deserve? Just say “thank you,” and we can be on our way.
Yes, the above actually happened this morning. I did hold open the door at a gas station an inordinately long time for a young man apparently far more entitled than me to pass by, only for him to fail to offer up a simple “thanks” for the gesture. We’re talking simple manners here, kid. It’s not difficult to be kind. In many ways it’s enlightening.
Now, in the past, all the thoughts and bitterness and resentment and demented thoughts that I illustrated above would have also been true. I would have held on to this five-second exchange for the entirety of my day or longer. I would have brooded over the details over and over until they wore a distinct path in my brain. I would have played the scenario out in a fantasy-like way time and time again, with me maybe punching the guy in the back of the head to punish his ignorance or me kicking him in his impolite ass or even spinning him around so that we were eye to eye so I could I dress him down in front of everyone looking on for his lack of etiquette.
Yeah, moments like these have always been hard for me to let go of. Right is right, I’ve always reasoned. No one should be above doing or saying what’s right. Saying “thank you” when it’s fitting is right. No way around it. We don’t have to like each other or know each other or ever see each other again, but any man or woman should be humble enough to offer up thanks for a gesture well done.
Today, though, I’m going to look at this situation in a positive light. I’m going to focus on the fact that it’s not my manners in question but his. I’m not going to make this problem my own. I did the right thing because it was the right thing. After all, do I execute good manners because I expect a payoff in the end? No. I do it because I believe it’s appropriate. I expect it of myself. Too often, I take on others’ problems and actions or lack thereof as my own. They aren’t my own. It’s not my problem, for example, that you use foul language in public. I’m just an unfortunate recipient of your inconsideration. It’s not my fault that you crank the bass up to impossibly uncomfortable levels in your car. I’m just on the receiving end of the public nuisance you’re creating. It’s not my fault that you drag puff after puff of your little nicotine stick in my general proximity or that you thoughtlessly throw the butt out your window on the city streets we all share. It’s sure not my fault that you can’t drag yourself away from your phone long enough to play with your kid at the park or that you treat the waitress like a robot instead of a woman. That’s your choice, not mine.
Today, I’m not going to hold onto all this hostility and let it sink my day. I’m not going to wish that bad things happen to you or that karma sucker-punches you in the jaw. In fact, I’m not going to give you another second’s thought. I’m going to keep on doing what I’ve been doing all along, the right thing at the right time.
Tomorrow morning, if I should encounter this same young man on my way into the gas station, will I hold the door open for him? Yeah, I will. I won’t do it with a smile on my face and I probably won’t even dignify his presence. I’m not that mature or easy going. But I will hold the door open. And if he should drop his keys, I’ll bend down to pick them up. If he should slip on the ice, I’ll offer a hand to help him up. I won’t like it, and I might even regret it temporarily, but I’ll do it. What I won’t do today is let bitterness linger on. It’s only damaging me, not him.
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