The Incredible Importance of Saying Nice Things

I had a very Mark Twain-esque moment today.  It was one of those moments that is not really that funny, unless you think about it in a certain way.  (My way, that is.)  But no matter how you look at it, at the time it was hysterical, and no one is ever there to share the laugh with.  Let’s just say that Matt or Mike would have pooped on themselves had they been there.

Twain once said, “I can live for two months on a good compliment.”  I can certainly attest to that, and I think you’ll all agree.  A real and true compliment from someone - friend, foe, or complete stranger - is a game changer.  It’s a sad fact that in today’s culture a sincere compliment is a very rare thing, I think because most everybody is so incredibly self-centered.  Because of this, I find that when someone says something nice to me (i.e. “You are extremely handsome and talented.”) the rest of the day is about 5 degrees warmer, so to speak.  A sincere compliment can change someone’s week, and it costs nothing.  And it doesn’t even have to be intentional praise, as I discovered today at the laundromat.

First, a word about my laundromat, Sudzees.  It’s clean.  It’s warm.  It’s close to my house.  It has free wireless internet (so slow as to be unusable, but it’s the thought that counts.)  And it is generally not inundated with large, smelly trailer dwelling folk.  And (very) occasionally there is a lovely lady there, also cleansing her unmentionables.  Sudzees is the Peter Luger’s of laundromat’s.  

So Saturday is laundry day in rossnation..., a tradition that dates back all the way to last year.  Occasionally it has to happen on Sundays, depending on the level of apathy in the water.  But it must be done, as rossnation... lays claim to only 6 work shirts, and would prefer not to be known the world over as “the stinky cable guy.”  Thus, I found myself there today, cleaning my whatnots, when two older women approached me near the change machine with a pointed question: “Do you have a knife?”

The women were trying to open their detergent package, and being old, did not have teeth sharp enough to bite it open as I would probably have done.  Not to worry, though, as I just happened to have a pocket knife gifted to me from my sister and brother in law not one day before.  The timing could not have been more perfect, which leads me to believe that my density has bought me to you.  (Back to the Future reference.)

I know you’re in suspense, so I’ll allay that by telling you that I did open their detergent.  After all, I am a gentleman and a scholar, with many gentlemanly and scholarly things to do.  But it was the few seconds afterward that changed my day for the better, when out of the wind, one of the women said to me, “You didn’t strike us as a knife kind of man.”  Oh, be still my racing heart.

Her comment was so offhand that I almost didn’t catch it, and she clearly didn’t intend it as a compliment, but I couldn’t help but smile.  For some reason, it was very comforting to me to know that I don’t look like a person who carries a knife.  On the other hand, she might have meant, “You look like a person who can’t help.”  I think I’ll take it either way, because if I look useless, perhaps I won’t be bothered with the trivial.  But I opened the detergent, bowed deeply, and walked off into the sunset (and by sunset I mean the dryer section.)

The key here is that it made my day, and a compliment is such an easy thing to give.  And imagine how big a difference it can make if it’s thought out and intentional.  It can change the world, like Eric Clapton, except without the British-ness.  And it’s better that way.

rossnation... out.