In another place, another town

[austin_dern]

``You are very welcome, sir.''

That was said to me by a quite cheerful bus driver, answering my thanking him when he opened the door. It's a compulsion of mine; I thank bus drivers, the cashiers at stores, the people taking my tickets at the cinema or checking my card at the Zoo. But I like thanking people for doing things that make my life easier, even if the driver would have to stop were I not there, and the cashier would have to give me my change even if I didn't thank him for it. It just feels imbalanced if I don't say it. I think I may be secretly Midwestern.

But being welcomed, or thanked back, jolts me every time. I've got an easy face to remember, and always have. Somehow I've never internalized that I don't manage to be part of the anonymous crowd, and I'm left feeling awkward about -- something -- when the person at the food stall knows what I probably want, or the driver of the bus I usually take taps the window to be sure I mean to miss it this time, and the librarian notes I've only got three books this time around.

I should be glad that I leave a genial, friendly impression on nearly everyone I meet, and that people feel I look friendly and sociable enough to strike up a conversation anytime, and I really am, but it leaves me feeling naked in some way. What is it like to be able to lurk in real life?

The most ridiculous thing -- against stiff competition -- in my thanking the bus driver and being welcomed for it is that I'm pretty sure the regular bus drivers are taking more care to stop the bus, when possible, so that I'm right up front near the door. It rubs against my egalitarian nature to get ``rewarded'' particularly for something as petty as a regular ``thank you'', but ... anyone could thank the bus driver. I've noticed the last week other people seem to be doing it more, too.

Trivia: To suppress the ``Whiskey Rebellion'' of farmers in western Pennsylvania in 1794, President Washington gathered a force of 15,000 soldiers -- almost as many as were used to catch Lord Cornwallis. Source: A Pocket History of the United States, Allan Nevins and Henry Steele Commanger.

Currently Reading: Zen in the Art of Writing, Ray Bradbury.

Comments

[blither.livejournal.com]

I would like to be a fae on your shoulder some time and experience a day, Austin-style.

Yes, I would.

[austin-dern.livejournal.com]

Well, it's not all perfectly absurd little dramas created by my ability to put subtext into getting on the bus, you know. A lot of it is cataloging people's various odd beliefs about how elevators work.

[blither.livejournal.com]

I don't think I've ever given any thought to how elevators work.

Fascinating. ;)

[austin-dern.livejournal.com]

Well, it's not so much how elevators actually work as how people think they work, you see.

[chefmongoose.livejournal.com]

I think it's just that "Thank You" comes in two flavors.

Regular Thank You is less an expression of thanks and gratitude as more an acknowledgement someone has done their job. You get your change and reciept from the cashier at the grocery store and you tell her "Thank you.", in a offhand sort of way, for doing what was expected.

Extra Crispy Thank You is when someone does more than exprected for you, and you want to show them earnest gratitude.. it's usually said a bit slower, and notably, with a lift on the 'ayy' in 'thank', as a sort of emphasis that it's not the Regular Thank You.

And you'd expect a "You're welcome" or a "Sure, glad to!" or such in response to Extra Crispy.. but it surprises you when it comes as a response to Regular. I think you're projecting Crispiness unintentionally.

I'm the same RL; I couldn't lurk if I depended on it. People remember me well after I've forgotten them, it seems. Just this month, I had two former co-workers from places I've long ago left recognize me at Colonel Pizza and Electronics Boutique; My pizza delivery guy earlier this month remembered me from FurFright, as well. (wish I could remember him..) You did strike me, the few times (once?) we met RL, as a very easy-to-recall individual.

--Chiaroscuro

[austin-dern.livejournal.com]

I think you may be on to something big there. For those who don't know what I look like, I'm ... scary. I'm big, fat, I have a long beard, and my hair cannot be kempt more than five hours after I've last been to the barber's. My barber is in Allenhurst, New Jersey, so you see the problem. More, although I'm almost incapable of being anything other than cheerful, I don't look it; if I don't think about it my face turns into a vaguely stunned or even a faintly frowning look.

So I probably overdo trying to be pleasant to people when I know they're watching. I try to smile, perk my eyes up, sound maybe cheerier than I really do, and that could easily upgrade my ordinary bread-crumb style ``thank you'' into the extra crispy version.