Years ago, when I was taking German during my first year of
college, my professor was doing a lecture on cultural differences. He wanted us
to understand that a lot of the little things we do every day are not
necessarily normal in other countries. He gave a lot of examples, and to be
honest I blanked out during most of that lecture because like duh… Americans
are weird. But through the haze of daydreaming about the cafeteria mac &
cheese and going back to my dorm to sleep some more one tidbit of information
seeped through. At the time I wasn’t really sure why, but since then this
little nugget has become an increasingly large part of my everyday life. Herr
Voltz told us that in Germany it would be unheard of to say hello to someone
throughout the day. In other words, after the first time you’ve seen someone
for the day there is no need to continue with the pleasantries; it’s unnecessary
and bothersome.
In retrospect I can see how this American nuance caused
questionable instances in my life. Growing up I spent a lot of time in the laundry
rooms of my mother’s hotels because I was the kid in the plaid jumper that no
one wanted to hang out with after school. Unfortunately sometimes stereotypes
are on point, and in this case most of the housekeepers at my mother’s hotels were
immigrants. I can clearly recall dumbfounded looks as I greeted each person
that walked into the laundry room, even if they had only left 10 minutes
beforehand. This level of friendliness in my opinion directly led to an odd
crush that one of my mother’s Czech contract workers had on me. He was in his
mid to late 20’s with the most beautiful blue eyes, but I was 12 and still
wearing my plaid jumper. Flattered, but gross…
Fast forward to today and I’ve taken Herr Voltz advice to heart.
Throughout the years I’ve grown ever more disgruntled at those that incessantly
say hello. If you’ve already seen me that day let’s both save the 30 seconds it
will take to greet each other again when I come back into the room. Smile at
me, sure; I mean, don’t be a dick, but there really is no use in greeting each
other again. Now, if someone says hello multiple times throughout the day I just
stop responding with more than a smile or a nod, sometimes not even that. I
know that many people in my life think that this quirk is a byproduct of my
quietness in social situations, but really I’m just annoyed. And this habit has
grown, not just with “hellos,” but with other pleasantries as well.
- Do we really have to say “God bless you” every time someone sneezes? I don’t know about other people, but my sneezes rarely ever come as a one off thing. I sneeze in multi-packs. There’s no need to bless me more than once. I’m not losing my soul through my nostril expulsion. I’m just having an involuntary reaction to your strong cologne.
- Unless you are my boss, a coworker looking for help or someone I’m talking to on the phone please do not ask what I’m up to. You are standing right in front of me. You can clearly see what I’m doing. I’m standing in front of a basin of water with circular ceramic vessels often used during the ingestion of food. Perhaps, just maybe, I’m doing dishes. I’m laying on a soft rectangular piece of furniture in a manner saying I just melted into this position while a box containing a flickering light plays moving images in front of me. I’m most likely watching television.
- My mom used to ask me how my day at school was every night when she got home from work. I gave her the same answer every time, “just another day…” This would never change unless it was an absolutely horrendous day. Please don’t ask me how my day at work was unless you actually want to hear a longwinded retelling of how much I hate Excel.
- Which leads into my most hated of all questions, “how are you doing?” No one, and I mean no one, besides your mother or partner really cares how you are doing. For some reason this question has become synonymous with “hello” in American culture. What’s the point of asking it? I don’t want to hear myself gripe, and I’m fairly certain the water delivery guy doesn’t want to hear me either, so why does he have to ask me each time he comes in? I don’t know, but I hate it.
So maybe I am just an overly angry person who needs to calm
down and recognize that people are just trying to be friendly. Maybe I was
never meant to be American. Maybe my German-born professor sullied my innocent
young mind with his propaganda, or some other rhetoric the Tea Party
would come up with. Or maybe, just maybe, there are others who agree with me.
No, I’m probably just PMSing; you know, stereotypes and all…
No comments:
Post a Comment