Earlier this week (the day of the thrilling André Leon Talley sighting), I bought a magazine at Rizzoli. I handed the cashier the money with a smile. She took it, placed the magazine in a bag, and handed me the bag and the receipt. All without a word. Not even a grunt. Or a hum. I don’t think she even blinked.
“Oh, you are so welcome!” I said, and my friend L and I left the store.
“What the hell is everyone’s problem?” I said to L. “Doesn’t anybody know how to say ‘thank you’ anymore? Is it that difficult?”
As we walked along 57th Street, on a block lined with fancy stores, we ranted about a lack of civility. About courtesy not being common. About how we know this is New York, but that’s no excuse. Of course, this is nothing new, and I’ve written about it before (see here and here). But still, every time I experience or witness a shameful lack of the most basic of manners, I am shocked.
“You know,” I said, “it’s a shame I won’t be able to go back to Rizzoli now, because it’s a really beautiful place. But I refuse to return to a store where the customers aren’t thanked. I’ll just have to add it to the list!”
“You’ll never leave the house, then,” L said.
At first I thought she was right. But then I realized that there are places where customers are treated better than others, where a purchase and a person are recognized. And although the places that treat customers well (or at least better) may not be as conveniently located, I will go out of my way to patronize them, even if, in some instances, the purchases cost a little more. But that’s quite all right. Sometimes that’s the price you pay.
To those stores who don’t thank me, I say no thank you. They won’t make me stay on this side of the doors of my house. And they certainly won’t get me on the other side of theirs.