If you’re looking for a cure for perfectionism, I would recommend parenting an intelligent and strong-willed three-year-old. The win/loss rate is never going to be much over the Mendoza line. That being said, there are wins to celebrate. Until recently, our daughter would begin breakfast with a hearty demand: “Where’s my milk?!” To counter this brusqueness, we’ve adopted a scaled-back Soup Nazi strategy: “Try again in a few minutes, and ask nicely.” This stratagem, unlike many others, has worked. Our daughter now usually begins the day by asking, “May I have my milk, please?” (where she learned to say “may” instead of “can,” I have no clue. We’re not Grammar Nazis). 

I think the list of greatest human inventions ought to include politeness (or courtesy, or good manners). Somehow, we’ve managed to peer-pressure each other into at least paying lip service to the notion that other people are also “centers of consciousness,” every bit as real and as important as we are. And thus a bunch of anxious, easily-bruised egos stay in close enough proximity to build up and run civilizations (for a while, at least). 

To be sure, politeness is often no more than lip service. It’s unlikely my daughter sees much value in politeness beyond getting her morning milk more efficiently. And during a hectic lunch break, when I smile and wish the young lady on the other side of the drive-through window a nice day, it’s not that I’m really thinking about the quality of her daily experience. I’m just going through the socially-prescribed motions. 

Rudeness, on the other hand, always speaks its own kind of truth. To be rude to another person is to tell him or her plainly, “You are not as significant as I am.” And that is usually a fairly accurate reflection of our feelings. Cutting off other motorists in traffic, posting disparaging personal remarks online, hanging up on a customer service agent in Mumbai who is giving rather unhelpful instructions in the best English they can muster — all of these things are, if nothing else, authentic expressions of certain interior states. Rude behavior scrupulously observes the popular cultural injunction to “just be yourself.”

Between manners and rudeness, courtesy and authenticity, society seems perpetually stuck between the competing mandates of just be yourself on one hand, and don’t be awful on the other. There are rules for what society expects, if not requires, and then there are the infinite possibilities of individual preferences and personalities. “Be yourself” and “don’t be awful”, social harmony and individual self-expression. Squaring that circle is no easy task. If we drop the latter requirement, society presently implodes or we find ourselves friendless. Sometimes who we are is just a jerk that people resent (or worse). Sometimes “the haters” at least have a point. But if we suppress the former, we can end up with everything from hypocrisy to depression. There’s a strong correlation between having to smile at work and binge-drinking after hours. Everyone knows how exhausting it is to play nice when there is nothing but anxiety or annoyance on the inside.

Is it possible to maintain a consistent, authentic regard for the full reality and significance of others? Some people certainly seem to be blessed from birth with a sweet disposition towards others. For the rest of us, however, the answer is something like, “Yeah, but it’s going to cost you.” As a Christian, what it costs me is bringing my ambitions for the day to Jesus and saying, “This is how I want this day to go. You can put it in the wastebasket if you want.” And, usually, he does. But I often — miraculously — have just a little more mental space, just a little more energy, to pay attention to the people who cross my path. 

It’s not a silver bullet, by any means. But if I don’t start the day this way, then, sure, I’m still reasonably polite most of the time (my parents did a really good job when I myself was a comically self-centered three-year-old). I do my small bit to just keep the gears of society lubricated. This is important, but then I already have my reward at that point, which also excludes the chance at genuine connection with someone else.

The good news is that Jesus never treats me the way I often treat others — that is, with distant courtesy and studied patience. To be sure, Jesus is not always polite per se (just ask the Pharisees), but he always evinces the attitude towards others that politeness mimics, that is, he treats the person in front of him with his full attention and concern. He insists that we do the same. And, what’s even better news, he somehow makes it possible. 

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