I recently took a business trip to San Francisco, known as “The City by the Bay” and “The City Where Millionaires are Considered Middle Class.” It’s the only city where, instead of exercising, I shed unsightly pounds simply by not eating.
Hours after checking into my hotel, I met San Francisco’s pricey reputation head-on when I attended a cocktail reception and saw the drink prices. A single mixed drink? Seventeen bucks. Add a dollar if you wanted a glass of wine. Don’t like beer? This would have been the perfect event to give it a second chance, as a bottle of Budweiser was only $12. And non-drinkers could quench their thirst on $10-dollar soft drinks and bottles of water.
But what really shocked me were the two words at the bottom of the price menu: “Thank you.”
For what exactly? Having correct change?
I am all in favor of manners and politeness, particularly in today’s society where we rapidly judge, scorn and vilify one another over political philosophies, social media posts and why our Starbucks cappuccino has extra foam when we SPECIFICALLY asked for low foam. A little kindness tends to amaze people. But let’s not be overly gratuitous. Thanking someone for forcing them to whip out a $20 bill for a lone glass of Chardonnay seems like the wrong response. More appropriate messages at the menu’s bottom would be, “Sucks, doesn’t it?” or “Hey, I’m just the bartender.”
Lately, I have found myself thanking people for gestures that have nothing to do with helping me with an issue or wearing a military uniform. I’ve gotten accustomed to signing my emails with, “Thank you for your time,” even though my emails rarely consist of more than three sentences. It’s not as if the recipients have to rearrange their daily schedules in order to digest my prose.
During my last foray through airport security, I waited patiently, then anxiously, while a TSA representative rummaged through my carry-on bag, insisting the X-ray had identified a sharp object, which turned out to be a toothbrush. Perhaps the bristles looked dangerous, as it’s been a while since I’ve changed my toothbrush.
“You’re free to go,” he finally said.
“Thank you,” I replied, stuffing my now thoroughly wrinkled sport coat back into the bag and hustling off to my gate. Perhaps my faux politeness made the agent’s day, but I doubt it. As I looked back, he was in the midst of berating another passenger for having the gall to wear a belt through the metal detector.
I’ve thanked police officers AFTER they’ve written me speeding tickets. I thanked a cineplex attendant for ripping my admission stub in half and then, without making eye contact, informing me that my movie was “the last theatre on the left.” I’ve thanked my dry cleaner simply for finding my clothes. I once thanked my physical therapist for putting me through an hour of excruciating pain, and then charging me for it.
When we’re entering our second hour waiting on hold to speak to a customer support rep, the recorded phrase, “Thank you for your continued patience” is not going to make us feel any better. Speaking to a human being, on the other hand, just might. Which is why we are so inclined to immediately thank whomever eventually answers our plea for help when our computer screen goes black. Even if that person informs us the warranty on our computer expired 10 second ago.
From this point forward, I have decided to become more reserved in my “thank yous.” Dazzle me with outstanding customer service and I’ll respond appropriately. Perform a task I cannot do on my own and I’ll thank you repeatedly. Slip me a free, or discounted beer in San Francisco and I’ll ask for your cell number, just so I can text “thank you” until you block me on your phone.
Thank you for reading my column. Wait, never mind.
