It Takes Years to Care, but Two Seconds to Be Polite

   

Premium Matcha Maiko Cafe

    One random night at the Premium Matcha Maiko Cafe, I was on the register taking orders, when that infamous tip request flashes on the customers screen. It's not a spoken rule or anything, but I'm sure that stereotype of food workers subtly turning away from the customers gaze when the tip screen appears doesn't sound like a foreign experience. I find myself unconsciously doing it; whether it's my eyes turning to the right to see if more customers walk through the door or if it's my eyes turning to the left to see if my fellow employees are doing okay in this evening rush.

    People never mention the tip screen. It just becomes a small two second timeout where everyone has to make a sudden awkward decision. Do I tip them or no? Being on the receiving end, my instinct is to turn away because I know this decision is held entirely by this customer and that I shouldn't do anything to interfere with this ritual. 

    Eventually, my eyes turn back around once I see the screen change. My screen no longer shows $6.89 as charged, but instead $7.23. That's a 5% tip.

    

    I show my appreciation with a smile as I fold their ticket and walk over to a counter to give my coworkers yet another order. But this time was different--walking away from the register, I overhear one of the two customers standing at the register scolding the other under her breath saying, "why would you tip??". The disconcerting feeling of that comment isn’t so unfamiliar. In the context of homeless people, this same scenario isn’t too different. 

    About a year ago, my family and I toured the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor. In a downtown area full of people and corner shops, homeless people situated all around is expected. I vividly remember my experience walking along these streets, when suddenly I hear a voice to my right, “Sir, could you please spare some change?”

    

    My first instinct was not to keep walking (like my family did), but instead to acknowledge this man in ragged clothes and heaps of various colored bags surrounding him. I have never spoken to a homeless person. The closest interaction I’ve ever had with one was when I still sat in the back seats of my fathers car years ago. We approached an intersection where a man held a sign asking for money or food. Without thinking twice, my father rolled down his window and gave him a ziplock bag of homemade m&m cookies. That was it. Maybe it was out of politeness, but I believe if it was intentional and sincere enough, a polite action out of courtesy turns into care.

    

    It was such a quick and simple transaction; two seconds was all it took to make a man’s day. So then why did my family decide to pretend like the Ann Arbor man was invisible?

    I didn’t have any change on me, so I slowed my strides as I said, “I’m sorry, I don’t have anything with me at the moment. Have a good day.” Again, only two seconds was all it took, yet my family scolded my acknowledgement of them, saying “You should’ve just acted like you didn’t hear them! It’s safer.”

    

    I did this out of politeness because I know if the roles were switched, I wouldn’t want anything other than to be seen. Despite politeness coming merely out of courtesy most of the time, I think actively making that choice to do it again and again fuses politeness with care. You begin to let it come naturally, and once it does, it stops being a “going out of your way” or a “just because” decision to be polite, but instead something true and worth the two seconds.