American Etiquette and Pleasantries
G.K. Chesterton, a British writer, once noted, “I have always found Americans by far the politest people in the world.” After spending time in the Middle East, I whole-heartedly agree with the esteemed author. American society is, in general, a very friendly culture in which to find oneself.
Grocery stores, for example, employ baggers whose sole job is to nicely arrange a customer’s vittles in paper or plastic sacks. Older folks are offered a hand by store employees or the nearest passer-by when carrying packages or loading vehicles. Here in the Middle East, groceries, once scanned and paid for, are left for the buyer to bag on their own. Old ladies, scarcely able to carry themselves, are left with heavy bags to lug home alone.
Cashier etiquette in the Middle East is also much different from what I am used to in the States. On most days here, cashiers greet me with an indifferent frown. I have found that many are rude to me when I am unable to communicate with them in Arabic or Hebrew. Although I speak the native language when I make purchases in the States, I cannot imagine sellers being rude to people who have difficulty understanding English. I have also upset many cashiers through my lack of smaller bills to pay for their services or goods. While I have studied abroad, my source of cash has come from ATM machines, which distribute money in mostly 100 Shekel bills (about $22). This is unhelpful when I try to make small purchases, but the situation really is not my fault. In response to my large bills (which I am sure many sellers believe are offered out of a wealthy American's pomposity), I have received countless unhappy requests for “kessef katan” (small money). Unable to provide smaller change, most cashiers scowl and then place the difference on the counter. Vendors rarely hand me back my change- a courteous and humane gesture I miss from the States. It is almost as if most vendors are afraid of the human touch, which might require a civilized connection with another person. It is a good day here if a grocery-store cashier says “thank you,” and I cannot remember a time when a coffee-house vendor has said “have a nice day.” I am usually the one to say thank-you as I leave a place of business, just so that my interaction with the cashier will not end in an uneasy silence.
It also seems to me that most people here do not understand the concept of waiting in line. Many here understand waiting as pushing their way forward to the front, usually regardless of who is shoved aside in the process. If one does not participate in the stampede to be first, they are pushed around, may actually miss the bus, or can wait an unspeakable amount of time to pay for services or goods. I miss the States (at least in the Midwest) where people generally follow the rule of patiently waiting for their chance to be up front.
Perhaps I am homesick, but spending time in a different culture has made me appreciate good aspects of American life -- the niceties, politeness, general friendliness, and noble etiquette of common daily interactions -- all the more.
Grocery stores, for example, employ baggers whose sole job is to nicely arrange a customer’s vittles in paper or plastic sacks. Older folks are offered a hand by store employees or the nearest passer-by when carrying packages or loading vehicles. Here in the Middle East, groceries, once scanned and paid for, are left for the buyer to bag on their own. Old ladies, scarcely able to carry themselves, are left with heavy bags to lug home alone.
Cashier etiquette in the Middle East is also much different from what I am used to in the States. On most days here, cashiers greet me with an indifferent frown. I have found that many are rude to me when I am unable to communicate with them in Arabic or Hebrew. Although I speak the native language when I make purchases in the States, I cannot imagine sellers being rude to people who have difficulty understanding English. I have also upset many cashiers through my lack of smaller bills to pay for their services or goods. While I have studied abroad, my source of cash has come from ATM machines, which distribute money in mostly 100 Shekel bills (about $22). This is unhelpful when I try to make small purchases, but the situation really is not my fault. In response to my large bills (which I am sure many sellers believe are offered out of a wealthy American's pomposity), I have received countless unhappy requests for “kessef katan” (small money). Unable to provide smaller change, most cashiers scowl and then place the difference on the counter. Vendors rarely hand me back my change- a courteous and humane gesture I miss from the States. It is almost as if most vendors are afraid of the human touch, which might require a civilized connection with another person. It is a good day here if a grocery-store cashier says “thank you,” and I cannot remember a time when a coffee-house vendor has said “have a nice day.” I am usually the one to say thank-you as I leave a place of business, just so that my interaction with the cashier will not end in an uneasy silence.
It also seems to me that most people here do not understand the concept of waiting in line. Many here understand waiting as pushing their way forward to the front, usually regardless of who is shoved aside in the process. If one does not participate in the stampede to be first, they are pushed around, may actually miss the bus, or can wait an unspeakable amount of time to pay for services or goods. I miss the States (at least in the Midwest) where people generally follow the rule of patiently waiting for their chance to be up front.
Perhaps I am homesick, but spending time in a different culture has made me appreciate good aspects of American life -- the niceties, politeness, general friendliness, and noble etiquette of common daily interactions -- all the more.
posted by Jason | 6:03 AM
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