Recently I had some dental work that called for me to keep my mouth wide open for a long time. The dentist and his assistant helped me along with encouraging instructions, which I obeyed as flawlessly as I could: “a little more to the left,” “a bit wider,” “could you lift your chin a bit?”; and after each, when I complied, I was rewarded with some praise: “great,” “perfect,” “there you go,” and so forth. At one point the dentist said, “good job” in that voice that we all remember having said to a child or grandchild for using his potty or finishing his peas, and I could hardly refrain from smiling, which he must have detected from my facial muscles, because he had to correct me again: “wider, please” followed by another “good!”
And that got me thinking about all the times our most casual encounters are transactions which include compliance and reward. The notary, after I have signed on the correct line. The Target cashier when I have accurately inserted my password and pin. The yoga instructor when my asana is perfectly aligned. Of course, some transactions are blunt compliance, but no reward. As at my pharmacy during the pandemic, which kept changing the location of the wait line , and customers obediently went wherever they were told, and never never approached the counter until they were called (by a terse nod from the counterperson.) And in one store, where I am summoned by a mechanical voice which directs me to the next open cashier, identified by a flashing number. But mostly, compliance is met with some pleasant exchange. Going into a concert venue recently, after I paid my money, the gatekeeper affixed my paper bracelet with a “wonderful” which was unearned by either of us, but felt awfully good.
I think the obedience confirms that even the most free-wheeling among us live more comfortably when we are organized, when there are rules we know to follow, and the recognition, when we obey these rudimentary commands, acts to elevate the brief encounters we have through our day, and add some personal content into even the most superficial interaction.
And occasionally, the praise is actually for a job well done. Like the other day, when the supermarket checker bagged my groceries so intelligently, with a fine appreciation of weight, testing and re-organizing so one bag was not too much heavier than the other, that spontaneously, I burst into a hearty, “good job!”
And it occurs to me that on this Labor Day, what could be more fitting?
vinegarmother 