I am one of those pathetic people with a compulsive need to be liked. It therefore crushes my soul when strangers commit random acts of rudeness. When this occurs (and it does, all too frequently) I spiral into a three-step emotional journey of bewilderment, hurt and rage.
Take this morning, for example. I was sitting on the bus when the girl next to me started fidgeting with her bag. Concluding that she wished to remove herself from the bus, I promptly rose to my feet and made way for her, generously flashing her a polite smile as I did so. Rather than make any eye contact, smile back, or even mutter 'thank you' in the style of well-mannered Londoners, she pushed past me with a scowl.
I sat back down feeling slightly shrunken and unsavoury and watched her figure recede as she stomped off into the chaos of Whitehall this morning. We all have bad days when we resent the close physical proximity with other commuters imposed on us by London transport but does nobody believe in manners anymore?
As I pondered upon this, I remembered my recent work experience at a popular weekly celebrity magazine. I had turned up all a-brim with bubbliness and journalistic enthusiasm, excited at the prospect of writing seedy exposes of the latest c'leb scandals.
When I arrived, I was given a thick booklet with 'Work Experience Job Description' on it, which listed tea making, distributing the post (and even opening the post, variety is the spice of life) re-filling the stationary cupboard and doing the office 'breakfast run' as my sole duties. In the first hour, I maintained a perky cheerfulness, delivering the post to each person with a little 'hello' or 'here's your post' or some other introduction, since according to my booklet; "giving out the post is a really great way of getting your face known in the office".
The problem was, despite my efforts at friendliness, nobody was even looking at my face. My face seemed to be an offensive foreign object. And my efforts at friendliness just made them more uncomfortable. Even when I lugged huge parcels from one side of the office to another for the Lifestyle team, no one offered any acknowledgment. It was if I was invisible, or at best, a slightly distasteful smell wafting across their territory. It made me wonder why people are so afraid of human contact and so suspicious of each other? Or is it just extreme laziness?
I came close to breaking-point on that first morning. I took a letter to somebody's desk, which according to my floor plan made her the rightful recipient of that post. She ignored my hello, looked at the letter and tossed it aside with a slight curl of the lip. "I'm not Juliette Readly" she snarled, without pointing me in the direction of the genuine Juliette.
As I walked off, I couldn't help muttering two expletives between clenched teeth. This was the only unmannerly outburst I allowed myself during that entire awful week. My restraint was tested throughout my time there, largely because of the general attitude of contempt displayed towards the work experience. Tasks such as the daily collection of the entire office's supply of papers and magazines (arm-destroying parcels which had to be lugged back to the 3rd floor of the office from a local newsagents) and having to pick up the editor's dinner at 6pm on a Friday evening also made me want to unleash some rudery but I somehow managed to keep a grip on decorum.
Taking positive action instead of taking a gun into the office, I called a talk with the editorial assistant and explained that I was there to gain journalistic experience and if I couldn't do any writing at all I would have to leave. This tactic worked and I ended up writing two articles which were published on the magazine's website.
Having graduated, I'm now back working for the online team (albeit unpaid, which I grant, is quite an impediment but seems to be the way it works) and have already had about twenty stories published on the website.
Proof that manners don't just make people happy, they also help to get your foot in the door.
A mannerly way of demanding payment for my labour? I'm still working on that.
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