By Dessa Bayrock (The Cascade) – Email
Print Edition: February 22, 2012
Canadians are famous for a few, very specific things – ironically, also things that are hideously easy to make fun of. Hockey, cold weather, currency that looks like monopoly money, mounties, and, maybe most of all, being so unendingly polite about everything.
And it’s true. We are, on average, really quite nice to one another. If someone steps on my toe, I’ll apologize to them. When I order a coffee in the morning, I say “thank you,” on average, three-and-a-half times. It’s almost obscene. I think I say please and sorry more than I swear – and there’s something fucked up about that.1 I’m a student. I’m stressed. I swear a lot.
However, I’ve come to the conclusion that being polite and being nice are not actually the same as being friendly. Oddly enough, I reached this conclusion after a six-day-long visit to the States.
We were staying deep in the heart of Texas: Austin. Barbeque and cowboy country. Everything is bigger in Texas, and I’m not just saying that — the University of Texas (where we were studying the manuscripts of one author in particular2) is home to half-a-dozen varsity teams, the members of which could probably easily outnumber the student population at UFV.
Intimidating to say the least. Travelling in a strange country is always a little frightening. Travelling in a country where the corner stores sell liquor3 and politeness is (supposedly) the odd man out – there is potential for downright terror.
I felt like a bold, brave adventurer, armed with the word “eh” and a woeful lack of street smarts. I will have to be strong, I told myself – these are a people that use the phrases “thank you” and “I’m sorry” sparingly, if at all. Someone might be downright rude to you. Someone might step on your toe and laugh at you when you apologize.
Again, this concept is basically true; the general niceties are definitely scarcer. But—and here’s the completely unexpected revelation—I would say (from what I’ve seen) that Americans are far-and-away the friendlier of the two peoples. Sure, they might not say “thank you” three-and-a-half times when they order a coffee, but — the brave (albeit dumbfounded) adventurer thinks this for the first time — for chrissakes – who needs to?
In short, we Canadians might be unendingly polite about everything but what does that actually mean?
In a word: nothing.
These niceties spill out of our mouths in the same way that bulldogs drool. The flood soon becomes routine, and then meaningless. While fetching my morning beverage, rarely does the local coffee franchise employee do anything astounding. It’s a fairly simple job.4 So why in the world am I thanking them three-and-a-half times?5 It’s a meaningless phrase.
In America, the only person to thank me thus far (aside from my fellow Canadians) was a waiter, after I tipped him exceptionally well. And this was after pretty good service. He deserved it. And since I hadn’t heard the phrase 18 times in the last four hours, his thank you actually meant something.
And, like I said, this absence of social sweet-nothings doesn’t mean that Americans are unfriendly: if Austinians are any example, they are beyond nice and into the realm of likeable, amiable, conversational. In Canada, we can’t even brush into each other without apologising profoundly.6
In everything-is-bigger-in-Texas Austin, I’m going to risk the inanity of cliché and say smiles are no exception. People talk to each other on the bus here – perfect, random strangers: old men, nursing students, mothers with schoolchildren. And not just conversations but involved conversations about life and school and pickled fish eyes.7 Open, entertaining discussion. Interaction. Connection. The quintessentially Texan phrase “y’all” is by nature inclusive. Maybe I’m only just now noticing the distance our cold but everlastingly polite conversations put between us, but I’m not sure I can go back to those meaningless phrases. Maybe I’ll just snap. In the words of another brave adventurer with not nearly enough street smarts, y’all can go to hell. I’m going to Texas.
