The Price of Nice

I spend a fair amount of my wondering-time, wondering why people aren't nicer to each other. The return for being nice to others must not be that great since so few seem to open up to such an idea. I can't say I understand that avenue of thinking--being nice has always been part of who I am, and it's never been at a steep cost.

I was out for my daily, morning walk with myself, the hurkin' stroller, and the munchkin. Fantastic day for a walk. It was still early so the air was a gentle warm, although you could feel the sun resting its fingers on the temperature gauge slowly heating things up.

Went to the Walgreens up the street as my first stop off. I swear Walgreens is going to take over America. It was late enough in the morning though, where people were out and about running errands, so the store wasn't empty. Had I been walking with my eyes closed though, it might as well been since no one was talking. Like shopping zombies, people combed the isles in silence. I kept to myself until I went to check out. A very nice, old gentleman rang up my things and tried desperately to get my daughter to smile at him.

She must have absorbed the negative, sleepy energy in the store for there was no way she was going to flash her two pearly whites at him. We chatted about diapers and without even a 'have a nice day' he shuffled me onward and began ringing up the customer behind me. Maybe he was sore about my daughter not smiling at him. I've learned that people expect niceness in return if they put forth the effort of being nice themselves.

So maybe people aren't nicer for fear of it not being returned? or maybe because they don't want to invest the energy into someone without a guarantee that that effort will be acknowledged and rewarded?

So I go on my way to Trader Joes.

As I enter the store, pushing the stroller with one hand and holding the carry basket in the other, a little girl comes rushing up to the stroller and nearly crawls into it with my daughter. I remind her to be gentle and she smiles at me and gently touches my daughter's cheek. My daughter, at first a little nervous, raises her hand to hold the little girl's hand. The girl's mother comes rushing over frantic--"Don't do that!! You can't touch people!! You need to ask the mommy first!!" I smile and assure the woman that her daughter was being very nice and gentle and that really it was fine. The woman hurries her daughter and they go on about their shopping.

Odd to me though. You'd think you'd want your child to be outgoing and friendly--no harm in showing that toward a baby. And her daughter was polite. Strange.

As I gather the few things I needed, and some things I didn't, a woman skirting her cart around the store kept huffing and puffing as I apparently was in her busy-body way. She must have said 'EXCUSE ME!' half a dozen times to me and then, when she was finished being rung up ahead of me in line, she dropped her berry pie and it crumbled to bits. But it didn't bother me when she went back to exchange it for one that wasn't wrecked. Upon her return, she smiled at me sheepishly and in a far different tone said, "excuse me..."

Again, this cashier tried his hardest to get my daughter to smile, but to no avail, she refused.

With frozen goods in the stroller now, I needed to be somewhat swift about my return home. A couple blocks from home and a block away from the coffee shop, my husband drives by...gives me the good ol' sissy 'beep beep' of our Trooper horn (Trust me, if you're looking for an SUV with a rough manly horn--don't invest in a Trooper!) and a circular wave of his hand which means, 'turn the stroller around-we're getting coffee!'

We go in to get some coffee and the woman behind me begins her plan of attack in getting my daughter to smile. This time, with success! My daughter does love the coffee shop, so it didn't surprise me that she finally gave in. It also could have been the Farley's Rusk she had been nibbling on and covered herself in that gave her the energy to exude such a sweet expression.

The baristas, who know my daughter fairly well, gave their normal routine toward her which she adores. She watched her daddy get his coffee and then dress it as he normally does. And then the next man in line, in his 30s I'd presume, decides he's going to be part of the baby chatter. He looks at my daughter and, he too, tries to get her to smile. She stops frozen, holding biscuit in hand held high, and glares at him. No smiles. Eyes wide. And then she goes back to eating her biscuit. The man turns, and says in a serious manner, "She should enjoy this! It's the nicest people will be to her in her life!"

What a sad thought that is--at six months old, my daughter is getting the best of what mankind has to offer, according to this man.

I sure hope he's wrong.

As we left, the woman that my daughter smiled at was walking behind us.

"I know it looks like I'm following you! I'm not really! I swear!"

I reply, "Uh huh...you just want her biscuit!", with a smile.

I'd like to believe that there are people who will always be willing to outstretch their arm with a welcoming hand and open their heart for the 'niceness' that can exist between people no matter what age you are.

The price of nice hasn't been unaffordable to me, has it for you?