For anyone who knows who David Novinski is, he gives his "status" talk once every couple years during one play rehearsal or another. The basic premise is that all human interaction revolves around a battle of who has the higher and lower status. Superiority and inferiority. Generosity and supplication. Etcetera. Sometimes the assertion of status is overt, like a boss telling his employee to get him a cup of coffee, just because he can. Other times, you have to read between the lines to figure it out. Compare the following two conversations:
Phone rings.
"Hello?"
"Hey, it's so-and-so. Can you do me a quick favor?"
"Sure, what's up?"
"Can you open the front door for me? I'm locked out."
"Yeah, I'll be there in a sec."
Click.
Phone rings.
"Hello?"
"Hey, it's so-and-so. Want to open the front door for me?"
"Uh...sure, I guess. I'll be there in a sec."
Click.
Most people know that I have a tendency to overanalyze pretty much anything anyone says, so you might want to take everything I'm saying with a grain of salt. First of all, there's the obvious difference of "Can you do me a favor?" vs. "Hey, do this for me," but there's not too much to say about it that's not right there on the surface. I'm more interested in the word choice when the guy that's locked out gets to the point. "Can you..." vs. "Want to..." is a world of difference. "Can you do this for me?" is a polite request from a guy with lower status to a guy with higher status. He's admitting, however subtly, that he screwed up and that he needs help. It's not exactly the prime example of humility or politeness, but it doesn't come off as overbearing.
The use of the word "want," though, implies an invitation. "Hey, want to come to my party?" "Hey, want some of my pizza?" "Hey, want to come open this door for me?" More often than not, a lower status person receives an invitation from a higher status person. Saying "Want to..." instead of "Can you...", then, is an attempt to exert one's superiority over someone else while requesting a favor from them. He can't just ask someone for a favor; he has to insinuate that doing this favor benefits both of them.
I'm only bringing this up because it seems like this has become the most common way to ask for a favor. No self-respecting student, for example, wants to admit he's bad at a certain subject. When he asks for help, instead of saying, "Hey, I don't get this, can you give me a hand?", he'll probably say instead, "Hey, wanna come help me study for math later?" Of course he doesn't "want to" - he'd probably rather be playing Guitar Hero or Facebooking or something other than explaining calculus. But, if it's posed as a request instead of an invitation (a bit of ego-stroking, perhaps?), then yeah, sure, he's free for an hour or so. People that ask for favors like that, as a whole, just bug me. Instead of calling me "buddy" and inviting me to run your wallet to you halfway across campus, just ask. Seriously. You come off as much less of a douche that way.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Saturday, June 2, 2007
A Trip to Starbucks
I went to Starbucks today. The purpose of my trip was twofold: firstly, I needed some caffeine in my blood. Sure, we have a coffeemaker, but the only coffee we have in the house is a gallon tub of that Folgers Half-Caff shit. My mom thinks that my dad and I drink too much coffee, so she bought that to keep our bodies from shutting down or something. With coffee, I enjoy the taste, but I mainly drink it to stay awake through the day. Instead of cutting back, then, I end up drinking twice as much just to get my usual jolt. Also, when I make coffee, I get open-bottle syndrome - as long as there's still coffee in that pot, I'm gonna drink it. And since making a single cup's worth of coffee seems pointless, I end up all jittery.
Secondly, and more importantly, I needed to get out of the house. I've been home alone all day, and I got a mild case of cabin fever. I usually only go to Starbucks before or after going to Blockbuster, just a quick in-and-out that seems more habitual than necessary (that's what she said). Today, however, in typical college fashion, I decided to bring a book and sit outside for a while.
A store clerk, in general, exists to check you out as efficiently and unscrupulously as possible, no more, no less. Any conversation he might start with a customer is mandated either by company policy ("Did you find everything okay this evening?") or to simply avoid awkward silence ("Man, it's hot out, huh?"). Anything other than that, and a cranky customer with a Bluetooth in his ear asks him to hurry it up, please. With this in mind, I approached the barista, smiled, and asked, "I'm getting kinda tired of my usual - can you recommend anything cold with a lot of caffeine?" She looked up and seemed a bit excited - acknowledgments of being a person instead of a nametag come few and far between. After some preliminary questions about my preferences, she decided to make me what she usually gets during breaks, with my permission, of course. When I pulled out my gift card to pay, she winked and said, "Don't worry about it this time." Score. The drink was pretty damn good, too, I must say.
Anyway, I sat in the sun and read for half an hour or so (I'm reading PD James' Children of Men, it's incredible so far). Sitting in a cafe is great for peoplewatching, which I enjoy - it's always interesting to listen in on conversations, especially extended ones. One guy was talking about how his son had been busted for possession a couple years ago, but his lawyer got him off on a technicality. A Hispanic guy with a perfect American accent told a story about how, last week, he had just finished mowing his lawn when a blonde chick in a truck pulled into the driveway next door and said, "Hey, the lawn looks great, would you mind doing mine soon?" He responded that he had a business presentation in a couple days, his wife was out of town, and his kids had the flu, so he probably wouldn't be able to squeeze her in. He finished up and went in the house through the front door, in plain view of his (new?) neighbor. He couldn't help peeking through the window to see her reaction - she was mortified.
I went back inside and ordered another drink, iced tea this time. I hadn't paid for the first one, so a second one didn't seem like splurging or anything. I struck up a conversation with another guy that works there, Tim, whom I kind of know. He came into Blockbuster almost every day last summer, just like I went to Starbucks, so we're pretty familiar with each other if nothing else. He's a couple of years older than I am, probably early twenties. Last summer, he mentioned how he lived at home and that movies were usually his only form of entertainment. I thought it was kind of sad at the time, but now I realize that it's not that different from what I'm doing this summer. We're both college students living at home for the summer, making some cash and trying not to let our parents crush our spirits. He's a little older than I am; so what?
I'm writing out of boredom more than anything else. I'm hoping that if I type long enough, something amazing and insightful might eventually eek its way out. Not today, I guess.
Secondly, and more importantly, I needed to get out of the house. I've been home alone all day, and I got a mild case of cabin fever. I usually only go to Starbucks before or after going to Blockbuster, just a quick in-and-out that seems more habitual than necessary (that's what she said). Today, however, in typical college fashion, I decided to bring a book and sit outside for a while.
A store clerk, in general, exists to check you out as efficiently and unscrupulously as possible, no more, no less. Any conversation he might start with a customer is mandated either by company policy ("Did you find everything okay this evening?") or to simply avoid awkward silence ("Man, it's hot out, huh?"). Anything other than that, and a cranky customer with a Bluetooth in his ear asks him to hurry it up, please. With this in mind, I approached the barista, smiled, and asked, "I'm getting kinda tired of my usual - can you recommend anything cold with a lot of caffeine?" She looked up and seemed a bit excited - acknowledgments of being a person instead of a nametag come few and far between. After some preliminary questions about my preferences, she decided to make me what she usually gets during breaks, with my permission, of course. When I pulled out my gift card to pay, she winked and said, "Don't worry about it this time." Score. The drink was pretty damn good, too, I must say.
Anyway, I sat in the sun and read for half an hour or so (I'm reading PD James' Children of Men, it's incredible so far). Sitting in a cafe is great for peoplewatching, which I enjoy - it's always interesting to listen in on conversations, especially extended ones. One guy was talking about how his son had been busted for possession a couple years ago, but his lawyer got him off on a technicality. A Hispanic guy with a perfect American accent told a story about how, last week, he had just finished mowing his lawn when a blonde chick in a truck pulled into the driveway next door and said, "Hey, the lawn looks great, would you mind doing mine soon?" He responded that he had a business presentation in a couple days, his wife was out of town, and his kids had the flu, so he probably wouldn't be able to squeeze her in. He finished up and went in the house through the front door, in plain view of his (new?) neighbor. He couldn't help peeking through the window to see her reaction - she was mortified.
I went back inside and ordered another drink, iced tea this time. I hadn't paid for the first one, so a second one didn't seem like splurging or anything. I struck up a conversation with another guy that works there, Tim, whom I kind of know. He came into Blockbuster almost every day last summer, just like I went to Starbucks, so we're pretty familiar with each other if nothing else. He's a couple of years older than I am, probably early twenties. Last summer, he mentioned how he lived at home and that movies were usually his only form of entertainment. I thought it was kind of sad at the time, but now I realize that it's not that different from what I'm doing this summer. We're both college students living at home for the summer, making some cash and trying not to let our parents crush our spirits. He's a little older than I am; so what?
I'm writing out of boredom more than anything else. I'm hoping that if I type long enough, something amazing and insightful might eventually eek its way out. Not today, I guess.
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