Tag Courtesy

To Tell the Truth

Michael 2 Comments
From the title of this post you might think I’m taking another shot at advertisers, or politicians, or horror or all horrors, political ads, but no, not at all. Today’s potshots are aimed at us and starting with me. (That would be the collective us not necessary an us that could contain you because you might indeed be the only truthful person in earth. Hey, it has to be somebody!)
 
Once a time up the worse you could do was lie, cheat, or steal. Or perhaps lie, cheat, and steal. A subtle but important difference. But today if it wasn’t for cheating many of the recent sports championship teams members wouldn’t be sporting their championship rings, thievery accounts for 4 of the top 5 reported crimes in the United States (per the FBI the top five in 2020 are larceny, burglary, motor vehicle theft  aggravated assault, robbery) and lies are getting so popular politicians may revert to the truth telling just to differentiate themselves from the common crowd (okay, so I had to get at least one political dig in). And yes, you are in that ground too. You might be so good at social lying that you even fool yourself. Pull up a chair and listen to my tale. (Or read it if that’s easier for you.)
 
It dawned on me that not only do we spend a good chunk of each day lying to each other, each other of us actually expects it because we, in the words of a certain fictionalized Navy JAG officer, can’t handle the truth. Apparently I am one of the very few persons in the television watching world who did not sign up for a free 30 day trial of Disney+ this month, almost all specifically to be able to watch Hamilton. In order to correct the “obvious” oversight on my part my sister asked me if I wanted to pop over and watch it with them before their trial expired. (It just now dawned on me that signing up for a free trial with the foreknowledge that you are so signing up only to watch a specific movie free and then cancelling before getting charge for month #2 could be either or both cheating and stealing but that is (those are?) post(s) for a different day.) “No thank you,” I answered, “I really don’t have any great desire to see it.” You would have thought I said I didn’t want to go to Heaven when I die (or before if that could be arranged). I supposed I could have said, perhaps should have said, “I’d love to!” but I wouldn’t so I didn’t. It’s the truth. I really don’t have a burning desire to see Hamilton. Sorry. Actually no, not sorry.
 
Yes, yes, you’re going to say but those lies we tell in those times aren’t lies, they are niceties, polite nothings, harmless fibs. When did it become necessary to lie to be polite. When you are standing in line at the 12 items or less express lane with your melting half gallon of rocky road ice cream waiting for the clerk to bag the last of the 6 bags of groceries for the guy in front of you and your answer to her “I’m sorry you had to wait,” is “that’s okay, I don’t mind,” that’s a lie! You know you want to say “if you’re so sorry take this portable puddle of chocolate back to the ice cream freezer and bring back back a container I don’t have to eat with a straw! And while I’m waiting I’m going to tell your boss that you lack the counting skills to figure out when you’re being played for a fool!” But no, you want to be nice, it’s more polite that way, so you lie. 
 
You explained 3 times to the auto mechanic that “it goes ‘ker-plunk’ when I turn the steering wheel to the left,” but when he comes back from the test drive he says “I didn’t hear a ‘clunk’ when I stepped on the brakes. When was the last time you heard that?” So you try again, “no, I didn’t say it goes ‘clunk” when I step on the brakes, it’s making a ‘ker-plunk’ing when I turn the steering wheel left.” That sets the tone for a day spent in the service lounge with the 128 cup coffee urn that was fresh three days ago, the magazines with scantily clad muscle cars and girls with big air filters on the covers that were fresh 3 years ago, and the TV in the corner than is permanently tuned to “The Real Housewives of Possum County.” Four hours and 27 cups of coffee later the service manager sticks his head in to tell you you’re all done and he’s sorry it took a little longer than they thought but they had to go to their warehouse to get the part. “It’s okay,” you sort of mumble while mentally visualizing the most recent statement “total outstanding” boxes for your credit cards. Well it’s not okay. You just lied! Four hours earlier you wanted to say “maybe I should try a repair shop that knows the difference between a ker-plunk in the stering wheel and a clunk in the brakes” but then all you said was “uh huh’ and now you lied that it was okay because it’s the polite thing to do.
 
And now we have even more opportunities to politely lie in our daily lives. You know, “of course I’m still washing my hands,” “I love that the whole family Zooms every Friday for Happy Hour!” and “oh yes I wear my mask every time I go out and I’m happy to do it and protect my fellow world citizens!” Yeah, right. You’re probably washing your hands but Happy Birthday, twice, has morphed into the opening line of White Curtain which causing you to pause 9 seconds in to ponder the second line, consider it for another 4, and then dry your hands and walk. What you really want to say is ‘who are all these people, I’d kill myself if I had to do this in person every week.” Finally, you do wear you mask everywhere you go (don’t you?) but be honest, you really want to say “I wear my mask but I’d rather not but because it’s the right thing to do I will so you better too! or “freaking pansies won’t let me in to buy my freaking beer without a freaking mask on but this is freaking America and I have to right to pursue beer so give me a freaking mask.”
 
So, there you go. Tell me you haven’t done the same especially now, during these trying times. But don’t worry – “it’s going to be okay.”
 
 
truthhed
 
 
 
 

Hats Off to You!

Michael 2 Comments

Earlier today I was driving to a morning appointment, stopped at a traffic light, looked over to the car next to me, and noticed the driver was wearing a hat. That was not unusual. It was early, the sun was not yet up, and the temperature was well below freezing. Very well below freezing. A hat was a good idea. I had a hat on. Everybody was who was anybody had a hat and was wearing it. Then for some odd reason I flashed back to a time 19 years ago when I was driving my boss to the train station, we were stopped at a traffic light, she looked over to the car next to us, notice the drive was wearing a hat, and commented “I can’t trust someone who wears a hat while driving.” I didn’t understand it but I also didn’t ask for an explanation. I considered it a positive that the station was just a block away and any inquiry might have been misinterpreted as a request for conversation thus delaying the drop off. Not to mention my solitude.

If anything, I think trust should be withheld from someone who doesn’t know enough to keep his or her head covered in 20° weather. That’s in F degrees. In C degrees that would be, umm, let’s see (20-32)*5/9 = -6.6666666666666, that would be like really cold. Why wouldn’t you wear a hat? Generally in those circumstances most of the rest of your body is covered. Shoes, sock, pants, shirt, sweater, jacket, muffler, gloves, ear muffs. Yep. It’s all covered. If you’re still cold you probably aren’t wearing a hat. Put a hat on! They are also practical in cold, wet, windy, hot, sunny, or arid weather (and there aren’t many other weathers).

Hats are also very accurate predictors of intelligence. Take the average no neck who wears his baseball cap backwards in blazing sun while simultaneously frantically shielding his eyes from the sun’s blaze. Not the type you want you want procreating. Baseball hats, like all other articles of clothing known to man, woman, or undecided are intended to be worn “not backwards.” Except for baseball catchers and then only during the defensive half innings of a game.

casablancaI think hats are fine. Yes it could be construed as shallow and unduly concentrating on appearances, but in my opinion there aren’t many people whose looks couldn’t be improved by covering parts of their heads.

There just aren’t many situations when a hat could not be stylish, practical, and appropriate. That’s provided you are outside of course. Hats really don’t belong on heads inside buildings except at hockey games where one always needs a hat at hand in the event of a hat trick and where better to keep a hat on hand than on one’s head. But that’s a special exception. Otherwise, and I’m talking to you men and others identifying as men, please identify with common courtesy and undoff those chapeaux à l’intérieur.

If you are wearing a hat, and you’re not indoors unless it’s a hockey game, you have my vote of confidence and trust. (But I might have to question why you’re reading this post at a hockey game). In a word, hats are cool. So be cool. And stay warm.

 

Every Day Is a Great Day

Michael 4 Comments
Hockey season started yesterday. I was there for it. In my seat, the one I’ve occupied for the past couple of years. It’s not a bad seat. Over the years I’ve sat in several spots around the arena. Lower bowl, upper bowl, center ice, behind the net, on the dots. In the old arena. In the new arena. None are bad seats. Amidst a handful of people in my little section amidst the 19,000 or so seats all occupied by people in their little sections we sat in not bad seats there just to see a hockey game. No other agenda, hidden, assumed, obvious, or imagined. Just hockey.
But before the game we stopped to pay respects to those who lost lives and loved ones in Las Vegas and all 19,000 were silent. Every one. Silent. Then we paid respects to the flag and all 19,000 sang. Every one. Singing. And I thought how once again all I know about being a gentleman I learned from hockey and how I was once so moved by that realization that I posted my thoughts on it right here. And I thought, just as “Badger” Bob Johnson knew every day is a great day for hockey, that every day is a great day to learn from hockey.
So I’m doing today something I’ve never done before. I’m reprinting “Everything I Know About Being a Gentleman I Learned From Hockey.”

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EVERYTHING I KNOW ABOUT BEING A GENTLEMAN I LEARNED FROM HOCKEY

Originally posted November 26, 2016

When I was at the hockey game this weekend I got to thinking how much as a society we can learn from hockey. Yes, the sport that is the butt of the joke “I went to a fight last night and a hockey game broke out,” is the same sport that can be our pattern for good behavior.

Stay with me for a minute or two and think about this. It started at the singing of the national anthem. I’ve been to many hockey, baseball, football, and soccer games. Only at the hockey games have I ever been in an arena filled with people actually singing along. Only at the hockey games are all of the players reverent to the tradition of honoring the country where they just happen to be playing even though they come from around the world – Canada, Russia, Germany, Sweden, Finland, even a few Americans.

A decent dose of nationalism notwithstanding, hockey has much to offer the gentility. Even those fights. Or rather any infraction. If a player breaks the rules he is personally penalized for it. Ground isn’t given or relinquished like on a battlefield, free throws or kicks aren’t awarded to the aggrieved party like victors in a tort battle. Nope, if you do something wrong you pay the consequences and are removed from play for a specified period in segregation from the rest of your teammates. No challenges, no arguments, no time off for good behavior. Do the crime. Pay the time. In the penalty box. Try doing that to a school child who bullies and you’ll have some civil liberty group claiming you’re hurting the bully by singling him out.

Hockey is good at singling out people but in a good way. At last Saturday’s game the opposing team has two members who had previously played for the home team. During a short break in the action a short montage of those two players was shown on the scoreboard screens and they were welcomed back by the PA announcer. And were cheered and applauded by the fans in attendance. There weren’t seen as “the enemy.” Rather they were friends who had moved away to take another job and were greeted as friends back for a day.

While play is going on in a hockey game play goes on in a hockey game. Only if the puck is shot outside the playing ice, at a rules infraction, or after a goal is scored does play stop. Otherwise, the clock keeps moving and play continues. Much like life. If you’re lucky you might get to ask for one time out but mostly you’re at the mercy of the march of time. Play begins. After a while play ends. If you play well between them, you’ll be ok.

The point of hockey is to score goals. Sometimes goals are scored ridiculously easily, sometimes goals seem to be scored only because of divine intervention. Most times, goals are a result of working together, paying attention to details, and wanting to score more than the opposing team wants to stop you from scoring. There is no rule that says after one team scores the other team gets to try. It all goes back to center ice and starts out with a new drop of the puck. If the team that just scored controls the puck and immediately scores again, oh well.

Since we’re talking about scoring, the rules of hockey recognize that it takes more than an individual to score goals. Hockey is the only sport where players are equally recognized not just for scoring goals but for assisting others who score goals. Maybe you should remember that the next time someone at work says you’ve done a good job.

handshakeThe ultimate good job is winning the championship. The NHL hockey championship tournament is a grueling event. After an 82 game regular season, the top 16 teams (8 from each conference) play a four round best of seven elimination tournament. It takes twenty winning games to win the championship. That’s nearly 25% as long as the regular season. It could take as long as 28 games to play to the finish. That’s like playing another third of a season. After each round only one team moves on. And for each round, every year, for as many years as the tournament has ever been played, and for as many years as the tournament will ever be played, when that one team wins that fourth game and is ready to move on, they and the team whose season has ended meet at center ice and every player on each team shakes the hand of his opponent player and coach, wishing them well as they move on and thanking them for a game well played. No gloating. No whining. No whimpering. Only accepting.

So you go to a fight and a hockey game breaks out. It could be a lot worse.

—–

So there you go. Everything you need to know about being a gentleman, or a lady. Courtesy of the folks who brought you hockey. They’re not bad lessons if I say so myself. And I think even Badger Bob would agree.

 

Those Were The Days

Michael 1 Comment

I’ve been spending the past several evenings watching Bond, James Bond movies going all the way back to the first offering from 1962. I was reminded, happily reminded, of how courteous people were back then. Everyone dressed well, everyone said please and thank you, everyone treated each other with respect. If I hadn’t lived through it myself I would say this was a romanticized version of mid-century life, but it wasn’t. At least it wasn’t where I lived and that wasn’t London, or New York, or Kingston, Jamaica. Nor was it spent in high class casinos, private clubs, or Caribbean resorts. It was a dinky little steel mill town in Western Pennsylvania and people still dressed well, said please and thank you, and treated each other with respect. If it had been sunnier more days than it was it could have been the set of Leave It To Beaver.

I was just about to type that the movies are part of a month long festival of sorts courtesy of the Starz/Encore networks. That’s not quite true. The movies are indeed part of a month long Bond, James Bond celebration airing on the Starz/Encore channels but they are there to see courtesy of myself by way of my monthly cable bill. And I think that is part of why I miss those original days of Bond, James Bond. No, the cable channel wouldn’t have paid for my movies back then. We all know there wasn’t cable then. Movies were at the theater. Where you dressed for the day out, said “please” when asking for a ticket and “you’re welcome” in response to the “thank you” the cashier would cheerfully tell you. Where the movie, popcorn, soft drink, and bus fare to get there and back could be had for the dollar bill mom gave you and let you keep the change. Today that 1962 fifty cent movie is included as part of my $140 monthly cable bill. And I have to provide my own popcorn and drink.

MarqueeThe last time I went to a Bond, James Bond movie at a theater it cost me $9.50 and when I passed over my $20 bill I got a ticket, the wrong change, and a “there ya go.” When I pointed out the error I was rewarded with the insipid “my bad.” At the concession stand I spent $7.50 for a soft drink, the required purchase to redeem my FREE POPCORN! coupon, during a wordless transaction other than my “small popcorn and Sprite” at its beginning and my “thank you” at its conclusion. (I’m still not sure why I thank the seller when I purchase something. Please tell me I’m not the only one.)

Even ignoring the almost 27 fold increase in the monetary outlay, it wasn’t a pleasant experience. Oh it wasn’t unpleasant. Nobody tried to pick my pocket, the crowd in the cinema was mostly quiet, and I didn’t spill my sticky soft drink onto my lap. Conversely, nobody said “excuse me” as they climbed over the lady in the row in front of me to get to the only seats that would satisfy them, nobody apologized for knocking the sticky soft drink into the lap of the unfortunate lady who was climbed over, and almost everybody dashed out of the theater as if someone actually yelled fire at the movie’s end. The niceties that were there in Those Good Old Days weren’t there and probably will never return.

If you should be unfortunate enough to ever mention this, particularly if you ever mention this to someone whose only experience with those late-50s early-60s days were through old movies or syndicated reruns of the Beaver, you may be rebuked for your naiveté and wistful but obviously wrong recollection of a time that wasn’t. But for me it was, they were, and it still is not a bad thing to aspire.

And now I have to run to the store and pick up popcorn for tonight’s showing. If I’m lucky, I might find a coupon.

 

You think your commute is challenging

Michael Leave a comment

The weather forecasters are saying it will be chilly this weekend, somewhere between 25 and 30 degrees colder than the first half of this week and only 8 degrees above freezing during the daytime. That will probably be a better time to take the little car out for a spin than in clear, 70 degree, sunshiney weather.

If you’ve been reading for a while you know I have a little red convertible that gets about as much use as you would imagine in an area where the average temperature is 52 degrees F and it rains or snows almost 150 days a year. But when the sun comes out the top goes down and I understand the true meaning of the phrase “worth the wait.” Right up until some guy with more testosterone than brains spots me.

I went out in the middle of the day when the real men with huge pick-up trucks riding on 28 inch wheels with massive brush guards, multiple running lights, and chrome steps to get into the cab should have been at work doing something involving torches and welders’ masks and comparing tattoos. But no, there was one about ¾ mile behind me when I slipped onto the onramp of the local expressway. I heard him, or rather his mufflerless behemoth, snarling up behind me. He closed that ¾ mile before I made it all the way to the end of the acceleration ramp and in his desire to make certain I knew he had more horsepower at his disposal than I did, he passed me on the single lane ramp and launched himself onto the highway mainline. Right in front of another mini-monster truck a few miles per hour above the speed limit. It was a spectacular sight in my rear view mirror. You could almost see their premiums going up.

I pulled onto the shoulder and waited until I saw that both of the not quite matured miscreants were moving about on their own power and then eased back into traffic and continued on my spring shake-out tour. You would think I’d have been shocked at the carnage (or trucknage if you prefer) and I was the first time or two such craziness happened. Unfortunately this goes on every year when I, and presumably everyone else with a weekend roadster, first hit the road.

In a month or so the craziness will wane perhaps because the crazy mongers become used to seeing us on the road again or perhaps because they run out of clean underwear.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

(Yes, I know this is St. Patrick’s Day and I didn’t say anything about that in my post. Monday was Pi Day and I didn’t bring that up then either. I’m not totally predictable.) (Am I?)

 

Flaunt It

Michael Leave a comment

Some time ago the people who name cities these things named our city as one with the most courteous drivers.  Apparently the people who name cities these things did not drive on the same roads or at the same times that we are usually driving.  Those are the times that try men’s souls.  Women’s, too.

At a nearby shopping center with multiple entrances there is one entrance from a well-travelled two lane road.  When the shopping center was built that road was widened to four lanes but the additional lanes were stopped and the road returned to two lanes some 100 yards short of that entrance when approaching from the south.  The entrance is to the west which means a left turn from the south.  However, the traffic is such that is unsafe to make a left turn there so signs saying “No Left Turn” were erected.  They really do say that.  The signage has the arrow with the red circle and diagonal slash but beneath that pictogram are the actual words, “No Left Turn.”  Even so, people turn left there.  (They must have remembered Greeley’s advice, “Go west young man.  Go west.”)  But in a nod to courtesy, they signal their planned turn while waiting.  For much longer than what would have taken for the driver to have used the other entrance around the corner.  The one controlled by a traffic light.

Traffic lights present another challenge for those around drivers wanting to turn left.  Many intersections controlled by traffic lights do not have dedicated left turn commands or lead times to facilitate cross-traffic turns.  There is nothing illegal about making left turns at those intersections with the caveat being, as it is in all the states, territories, countries, and day care centers, those vehicles continuing straight through the intersection from the opposite direction will have the right of way.  Here’s where courtesy comes into play.  The driver wishing to turn left will creep into the intersection so he or she can see the progress of the signals from the cross traffic point of view.  Then when that light has spent a sufficient time on YELLOW, just before turning RED, the driver wishing to turn left, will.  It is a courteous maneuver because by turning before the cross traffic light was RED meant that the opposite light was not yet GREEN and the left turning driver did not delay the car from the opposite direction by bolting left just as its driver was going to drive straight through.  No comment regarding the two or three cars following with their own left turns.

These are just two examples of the extreme courtesy shown by and to local drivers.  We could also mention the constant lane changing on the highways around town, but almost always with the accompaniment of turn signals, thus making those NASCAR hopefuls courteous.  Usually the turn signal is the left one and that one stays on for several miles while the driver weaves left and right.  Then there is the passing on the shoulder of the exit ramp.  Here the driver switches to the right turn signal and increases his courtesy level.  By the time that car reaches the end of the ramp the driver has shifted two lanes left again and takes his or her lead monitoring the traffic light for the cross traffic yellow and the soon to be made left turn.  Yes, we could mention these.

So that must be how our city became one of the most courteous to drivers.  And shortly after (or perhaps before) the city motto was changed to, “Go Left Young Man. Go Left.”

Now that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you.