A STORY WORTH TELLING
“Things money can’t buy: Time.
Happiness. Integrity.
Love. Manners. Respect. Trust. Class. Common sense. Dignity.”
— Roy T. Bennett
“You don’t have to get up,” someone told me during an introduction- and-handshake meeting last week.
“Are you kidding?”
I said, rising to my feet. “That’s the way my daddy trained me.
I don’t know any other way.”
Good manners, once commonly taught in every home, appear to be exiting society through the same door of laziness as kindness and respect.
“It’s not as much of a thing as it used to be,” one ill-mannered individual tried to argue.
“Granted, I haven’t heard manners discussed much at the (baby) boomers’ morning coffee gathering lately either,” I countered. “But it still matters.”
And it does matter.
We get one chance to make a first impression, usually before we ever utter a word.
“Do you always dress that way for work?” I recall a manager asking a new guy on the job.
“Yeah,” the newbie stuttered, “And you always address your supervisors and elders with, “Yeah?’ Where’s your manners?”
Before the young man could dig himself any deeper, the manager offered advice that I’ve never forgotten.
“If you want customers and colleagues to perceive you as a professional, you have to dress and act like a professional. No one gives you respect for free,” the manager said. “You earn it by the way you present yourself and the way you treat others.”
Manners were important to my parents and grandparents.
For that, I am deeply grateful.
Learning manners requires no textbook and very little intelligence. Just treat others like you want to be treated.
“Manners make the man,” Mom used to say. “Real men are considerate of others, especially ladies.”
My father made sure I understood that one well. Entering Perry’s 5¢ and 10¢ store in Mount Pleasant one day, where he was the manager, he quickly stepped up to hold the door for the lady behind us.
“Please pardon my rude son,” he said. “I’ve tried to teach him some manners, but he seems to have forgotten that today.”
A big one with my grandmother was: “A gentleman always removes his hat when entering a building.”
“Take that cap off,” Granny informed me the first time. “It’s rude to wear a hat inside.
And don’t ever sit down to eat with a cap or hat on your head.”
The second time, she wasn’t as subtle. She snatched the cap off my head, handed it to me and asked, “What did I tell you about taking off that cap indoors?
Don’t let me see you do that again. People will think you were raised in a barn.”
My grandmother also clearly emphasized the use of “please” and “thank you.”
One afternoon, she bought a strawberry ice cream cone at Lockett’s Drug Store soda fountain in Pittsburg and handed it to me. But she abruptly took it back before I could enjoy the first bite.
“Thank you,” she said to the young man who had just scooped up the delectable delight.
She then took a bite of it and said, “You must not have wanted it. You didn’t thank anyone.”
After a most humble “thank you” to both her and the soda-fountain attendant, she returned the ice cream cone to me, minus one bite; the price for neglecting my manners.
“What do you say when speaking to someone?” That’s what my Mom asked me about addressing others, especially elders.
“Yes,” I responded.
“Yes … what?” Mom asked.
I soon learned that “Yes, ma’am” was expected as the next words out of my mouth if I was addressing a lady and “yes, sir” if speaking to a man.
“Manners are not important just because I say so,” Dad told me many times. “They are a measure of how you respect people. If you show others respect, they will respect you.”
Someone asked me about a fellow employee in the workplace not long ago.
“Why doesn’t she respect me when I ask her for something?” was the inquiry.
Recalling the longago words of the supervisor and my father’s advice, I said, “It could be the way you ask. No one gives you respect for free. You earn it only by giving it.”
True enough, money can’t buy respect or manners. But if it could, some people these days would need a sizable “GoFundMe” account.
—Contact Aldridge at leonaldridge@gmail. com. Other Aldridge columns are archived at leonaldridge.com
