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“Your job is being outsourced.” - American Express, 3 months after being hired by them
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Cross-Pollinating with Sarah The Crazy Baby Mama ...
See my post "The Agent Who Laughed Himself To Death" at her blog today!
Desperate Times<...
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William H. Macy
I have one thing to say about the man, every movie he's in is good. It's that simple. He doesn't pick bad roles or bad movies. …
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I turned thirty-six about a month ago and as you can tell from my blog, I consider myself officially getting old. Well, middle aged at least. Thinning hair…
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For 37 years now, I have been an extremely picky eater. I can't help it, it's just who I am. I won't eat certain foods for the stupidest reasons. What…
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It's not Cheers or Friends or even MASH. It's not Who's The Boss or Leave It To Beaver or The Brady Bunch. Nor is it Scooby Doo or Monday Night…
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I heard someone talking yesterday about how this pastor and his church owned half a city block and had a membership of more than five thousand people. By "Big City"…
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People can be divied into two types and it seems as if most women belong to that one group I don't. You know what I'm talking about, I'm talking about…
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I was talking with a friend the other day and he suddenly turned to me and said, "Do you smell that?" My instinctive reaction was to say, "It wasn't me,"…
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It's the new millennium and has been for quite a few years. The definition of what constitutes a man is being rewritten on a daily basis. Not only is he…
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"Housesitter" ran on TBS this past weekend (written in mid-July). I kept the sound off while I tried to write about different things. I read through the paper where it…
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Written by Ross Cavins
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Wednesday, 12 September 2007 01:34 |
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In the American South, we are raised with manners as a matter of breeding. We are taught to hold open doors for complete strangers, help those in need and say thanks to everyone for everything. And I do mean everyone for everything.
A few years ago, I was driving about 74 in a 55 during a rainstorm in Marlboro County, South Carolina, on my way back from Myrtle Beach. A cop stopped me and asked me the most original question, "Do you know how fast you were going?"
 Thank you.
He looked at me without blinking, saying, "And why was that?"
I shrugged, "Cause I didn't see you." Have I mentioned I'm sometimes honest to a fault?
The cop didn't appreciate my sense of humor, he promptly wrote me a ticket for 69 in a 55, 1 mph shy of losing my driver's license. He ripped the ticket off and handed it to me, still unsmiling, and do you know what I said?
"Thank you."
I actually said thank you to a cop giving me a speeding ticket. Can you believe that? Saying thanks is so ingrained into my psyche that it never occurred to me to say anything differently.
Thank you. Two simple words that carry the weight of appreciation. When someone brings you a cake to welcome you to the neighborhood, you thank them. When a friend picks up the tab to celebrate your birthday, you thank them. When you buy a new car, you shake hands with the salesman, then thank them. It's what we do.
But I must say, though, it troubles me that I willfully thanked a cop for giving me a ticket. Southerner or not, I have to figure out what the acceptable thing to say in this situation is. Something that won't get me another ticket. Help?
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