Thesis: New Yorkers Possibly Nicer Than Midwesterners

New Yorkers are rude: that's the going cliche. And folks from the Heartland brim over with good will and cheerfulness. I was raised in the Midwest and have lived in New York the past 20 years, so I've had ample opportunity to test the truthfulness of these two bits of conventional wisdom. I've often argued against the former. When a tourist scratches a New Yorker, they usually find a helpful, conscientious individual willing to spend a minute assisting a stranger. Conversely, I've generally accepted the veracity of the latter assertion without question. Midwesterners will knock you down with their niceness, it's so persistent. Or so I've always thought. My recent trip to the Wisconsin, however, made me reconsider.

There's no denying the sweet dispositions of most Wisconsinites. They go out of their way to smile and not offend and keep their voices and enthusiasm tamped down. But this time around it seems like a veneer, one easily cracked. And behind it was barely concealed impatience, irritability and intolerance.

One day I was in line at a book and toy store, buying a present for my son. As I was being rung up, I spotted an additional item I wanted and rushed to the back of the shop to get it. When I returned, there was a woman at the counter asking the clerk some questions. I silently sidled back to my previous position and handed the clerk the additional item. "Sorry," I said, explaining why I had cut in front of her, "I was in the middle of a purchase." The lady told me not to worry, it was nothing. But then she looked at me in a steely kind of way, smiles and said, "You certainly seem to be in a hurry." I glanced at her. Her meaning was clear. She didn't like me.

Another time, a woman was showing me around a lodge I was about to stay in. I asked several questions. I always ask lots of questions; I'm a curious guy. But after maybe the fifth question, she smiled big, looked down at my five-year-old son and said, "How do you put up with them?" Huh?

One day, The Wife spent the day at a nice cafe with wi-fi, because she had been suddenly called up to complete a writing assignment. She was there a few hours, spent money, got friendly with the people who ran the place. At one point she had to Skype without someone in Prague, and asked if the new-age music loop tape could be lowered a bit so she could hear. Now, mind you, this is a cafe that heavily advertises itself as a place for laptop users who can use it as a base to surf the internet all day. Anyway, the formerly nice counter person said, "I think what would work best for you is if you relocate." Which, translated from Midwestern, means "Get out!"

Then there was the smoothie altercation. The Wife went into a cafe that had thitherto proven very friendly and serviceable. She was after a smoothie for our hungry son. She observed that the counter person was about to make the smoothie with some sort of pre-fab fruit mix. Spotting some frozen bananas nearby, she asked if she couldn't have the smoothie made with fresh fruit. The woman became immediately flustered and angry. "I don't know how to make it any other way." My Wife explained how easy it was, one, two, three. "I can't do that!" the clerk answered. "I only can do it this way!" She made the smoothie as usual, slammed it on the counter and walked away in a huff.

There were other such incidents. My wife and I came to the conclusion that perhaps we were more New Yorkers than we thought we were. You know: demanding, particular, wanted our own way, blah, blah, blah. I try to watch out for those tendencies when traveling, but sometimes they seep out. But that couldn't have been the total explanation. We weren't asking for the moon, after all. Just a well-made smoothie. After some thought, I realized that these nice, kind Midwesterners were nice and kind because they were used to not being bothered or tested. People were accepting of whatever it was they were offering and asked nothing more. You smile, I smile, nobody's upset.

Our sin was that we asked questions, we requested things, we expected a certain kind of service. And we were disliked for it. In the Heartland, that's what's known as being "difficult." Everyone in line at every Starbucks in NYC is difficult by these standards.

Now I'm back in New York. I ask. I request. I inquire. The waiters and clerks don't smile necessarily. They're not "nice." But they try to give me what I ask for.

Now, that's nice.