Frankie201801-02

(Frankie) #1

Photo


Sandra Lazzarini


I was brought up to be polite. I was taught to say ‘please’ and ‘thank
you’, and to treat people with respect. And you know what? It’s served
me pretty well. I get on with others, I make friends easily, and I’ve only
ever been punched in the face once. But what I can’t get my courtesy-
conscious head around is when people demand I grace them with
maximum friendliness in situations that might not otherwise expect it.
Let me explain. If I’m walking down the street with my headphones
on, happily howling along to some form of ’80s punk rock, and
someone sporting a shit-eating grin and a clipboard extends their
hand towards me, I will ignore them. Because I don’t know them.
It’s kind of weird to be so overly friendly with strangers on the street,
if you ask me. Plus, I don’t know where that hand has been. Heck,
I don’t know wheremyhand has been!
So, my question is this: what is the appropriate level of courtesy
one can offer during forced interactions, without seeming like
a massive douche?

Walking into a hip retail store staffed by ‘the youth’ terrifies
me. I know as soon as I step inside I’m entering a vortex where
everyone looks like Justin Bieber and is so happy they just have to
dance and high five and say things like ‘bro’ and ‘fam’ and other
awkward pleasantries. It’s like walking into a nightclub that’s been
inconveniently cluttered with clothes and accessories.
I’m terrified, because I know as soon as I make eye contact,
I’m going to be bombarded with questions like, “What’s on for

the day, bro?” or, “Day off today?” or, “Fancy giving me your soul?” It’s
in these situations that I find it hard to figure out the appropriate ratio
of politeness to acceptable detachment. Usually I’ll give a half-arsed
smile and say something like, “I’m just having a browse, thank you.”
It’s a line we’ve all wheeled out to make it clear to the salesperson
looming over us that we’re happy to be left alone to shop in peace.
But sometimes, no matter how hard you try or gracious you are, they
won’t take the hint. And if you don’t return their seemingly impossible
level of enthusiasm, well, you’re one gigantic A-hole, bro.
I’m also confused as to why my rating on a certain car-ride service
fluctuates when I literally do the exact same thing on every journey.
Beyond being ready and in the right place for pick-up, surely my
only requirements are to be polite, say please and thank you, and
not throw up anywhere? Surely my worth as a passenger isn’t
reliant on my willingness to waffle on about the driver’s obscure
music genre of choice?
Don’t get me wrong – I don’t mind a bit of friendly chit chat.
Perhaps I’ll mention the weather, then, as a follow up, marvel
at how it’s sometimes different. But that’s where a car ride
conversation ends with me. So, am I a bad person? And why do
I respond to affability with wariness?

I think it comes down to this: I don’t trust people who are too
nice. What are they hiding? What’s their motive? Not so much
the naturally cheery chaps who go about their days with a
merry spring in their step – they’re harmless and jolly and
not trying their darndest to engage me in witty banter. It’s the
people who seem faker than Trump’s all-over tan that really
get my gears a-grinding.
When friendliness is used as a manipulation tactic, it’s icky. Being
nice should be about respect and courtesy, not a way of getting
people to sign your petition or exchange five-star ratings. And
while we’re at it, to the Justin Bieber carbon copy trying to sell
me a pair of jeans with more holes than an anti-climate change
argument – just chill, bro.

the courtesy burden


DANIEL MOORE DOESN’T WANT TO
BE YOUR FRIEND.

rant
Free download pdf