I sat on Kipling for what seemed like a lifetime. I could tell the guy ahead was in the wrong lane and desperately trying to get back in. He put on his signal, and almost instantly, everyone seemed to tighten up the space between their cars. Traffic started moving again, but I held my foot on the brake just a little longer and waved him in. He squeezed into the space in front of me. Then I waited for “the wave.” You know the wave. That universal little hand gesture that says, “Thanks. I appreciate you letting me in.” But it never came. For a second, I actually regretted letting him in.
Do you ever find yourself thanking Siri or Alexa for their help? Not because they went out of their way for you—they’re machines—but because that’s just how you’re built. Or, more accurately, how your parents built you. Thank you for this. Thank you for that. Thanks for showing up today. Thanks for all your hard work. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Attend or watch almost any City Council meeting and you’ll hear an endless amount of thanking. People thanking other people for doing their jobs. Not necessarily for going above and beyond, but simply for doing what they’re supposed to do. The expression “thankless job” comes to mind. Some jobs deserve recognition precisely because, no matter how difficult they are, someone has to show up and get them done. But when an entire group, one by one, says essentially the exact same thank-you to the exact same person, does it eventually become meaningless?
On the other hand, when I sit in restaurants, bars and other public places, I’m definitely noticing fewer “thank yous.” Did we hand them out so freely that we somehow made the sentiment meaningless? Has “thank you” become more automatic than meaningful? I don’t buy the notion that we shouldn’t thank someone simply because they’re “just doing their job.” Sometimes a small “thanks” is exactly what carries someone through a difficult moment. Two words can make a lousy day just a little bit better.
Interestingly, I also wonder whether younger generations expect—or even need—to hear “thank you” as much as previous generations did. Maybe that evens things out. Or maybe politeness is simply taking on a different form. As more of our daily interactions happen through automated platforms instead of with another human being, perhaps we’re slowly losing the habit. When you order from a screen, check yourself out at the grocery store or ask your phone for directions, there’s nobody standing there waiting for a “thank you.”
So who is a thank-you really for—the person giving it or the person receiving it? Does it have to be heartfelt every single time? And does it always have to be spoken? This column always ends with “thanks for reading.” I write it because our advertisers, printers, writers and, of course, I am genuinely thankful for our readers. I sometimes imagine someone picking up the Gazette for the very first time, getting to the end of this column and being thanked simply for spending a few minutes with us.
And that brings me back to the guy on Kipling. I let him in because I pictured myself in the same situation. I’d want someone to tap the brakes and give me a little room. I believe the world has a way of balancing itself out. Kindness is contagious, and sometimes that little “thank you” is what keeps it going. Maybe it’s a smile. Maybe it’s a silent “thanks” mouthed through the windshield.And sometimes, at least for me, it’s just a simple wave.
As always—and forever—thanks for reading.
