Manners Monday

Whatever happened to fair dealing and pure ethics and nice manners?
Why is it everyone now is a pain in the ass?
Whatever happened to class?  

-- John Kander and Fred Ebb: Chicago

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I did more traveling last week than I usually do in six months. Along the way, I came into contact with a lot of people. Bubbly college tour guides. Helpful hotel desk clerks. Professors passionate about the subjects they teach, and librarians excited to create new programs that excite their patrons.

I also dealt with grumpy folks who didn't seem to enjoy their jobs. Customer service representatives content to put people on hold indefinitely. A man conducting business on his cell phone in a restaurant loudly enough for everyone around him to hear.

When our kids are little, we teach them manners. Please and thank you. Excuse me. I'm sorry. 

How is it that somewhere between preschool and adulthood, these simple niceties fade away?

Even teenagers, considered by many to be the rudest beings on the planet, know when to turn their manners on. They may grunt in reply to parents, and text in code to friends, but, generally speaking, most know when it's time to haul out those pleasantries from preschool and put them to use.

So, why can't adults do the same thing? Why is it so hard to say, "I'm sorry. I made a mistake."? To thank the person who goes above and beyond? To give a little consideration to the expression on our faces or the volume of our voices?

The thing is, it isn't. Anyone who deals with the public knows this -- it's Customer Service 101 -- so much so that seemingly every establishment prints links to customer satisfaction surveys on the bottom of their receipts or e-mails customers who've visited them to see if their employees are doing these things. And, in an age where customer reviews are easily accessible online, scores below the top 10 to 15% are considered unacceptable. A difference of less than 5% can sway a customer toward one business and away from another.

And yet, in our non-business interactions, we so often forget -- or forgo -- the very pleasantries on which these businesses rise and fall. Why is that? 

Maybe today is the day to change that. To take our faces out of our phones and smile at the barista who hands us our coffee. To thank the person who goes out of her way, to apologize to a colleague or family member when we make a mistake, no matter how embarrassing and uncomfortable that might feel. 

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Some of you already do this, and for that, I thank you. I also suspect that people like being around you, much as I enjoyed the company of that tour guide, desk clerk, professor and librarian. These are the people who put smiles on our faces -- smiles that last long after the interaction has ended.

Sometimes, we're busy, or preoccupied, and we mean to do these things, but we don't. We forget. Or, like teenagers, we haul out the pleasantries when we're in public, and dispense with "please" and "thank you" at home.

Maybe today's the day we pause for a moment and bring back class.

Have a wonderful day.

Monday Morning Musings

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 The end of the semester is approaching, and I am excited. The break between semesters means I get to set aside my professor hat for a bit and put on my writer hat on a daily basis. I get to to take the projects that have been bumping around in my head and spend some time on them (after an appropriate period of procrastination, a.k.a. "changing gears," of course). I'm already beginning to make lists in anticipation of this changeover, hoping that prioritizing things means I'll make progress on more than one project.

I'm also a little sad, though. Teaching is about more than just making connections to the material; under the best of circumstances, it also means making connections to the students, and I will miss this semester's bunch. As an elementary school counselor, I had most of my students -- for better or for worse -- for four years. Now, I keep the young adults who populate my classes for only a semester, and though our paths may cross again on campus, I'm unlikely to see most of them once they've completed my class.

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And even though they're not little kids, some of them tug at my heart strings. This is particularly true in a small class because I feel as though I get a little peek into each of their personalities. While I scratch the surface in a class of 30, a class half that size lends itself to more discussion and more one-on-one contact. And when those students are freshmen just finding their footing, the instructor/counselor line blurs just a bit.

Three semesters in, I've found my own footing as well. Satisfied that I've got the bulk of the content delivery piece in place, I can relax into the role, secure in the feeling that I have more to offer my students than elucidation of the material in their textbooks. It's a good feeling.

And so, while I'm looking forward to settling into my writer role for a month, I know that won't be the only role I play during that time. Beyond the break, new students beckon (along with a new textbook for one of my classes) and so I'll need to set aside time to prepare. Though I struggle to find writing time when the semester is in full swing, I've also learned that one role feeds the other, though each needs its own special time in order to thrive.

As it turns out, I need both in order to thrive as as well.

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