UK Quirks: The Thanking Compulsion

Guys, I live with a linguist. So, when we combine her interest in languages and the fact that she's a non-native English speaker who finds most colloquialisms totally hilarious with my general interest in speech patters (academia for the win?), living United Kingdom has provided endless amusing observations.

The latest one has become apparent through my recent endeavors in the service industry. Did you know that British people like to stand around thanking each other? To excess. It's true!

Not only do they have far too many words for "thanks" and "thank you" including "ta" and "cheers," but they also like to pair it these words with phrases like "that's great"/"lovely"/"perfect," and often all three in the time that it takes me to clear away a plate.

What's even stranger is that the appropriate response to all this thanking is not "you're welcome" or "no problem" or even the more casual "no worries." No. The appropriate response is to thank that person again.

Yes. You read correctly. Excessive thanking. I'm not really sure this necessarily makes the interaction any more polite, because they're often muttered under their breaths kind of like an extra-polite verbal tic. Consider the following:

Customer: "Oh that's great, cheers, thanks"

Server: "Thanks, can I get you anything else?"

Customer: "No, thanks, that's perfect, cheers"

Server: "Ok, cheers!"

You know how many times they thank each other in this interaction? Six times. Not to mention the affirmations of perfection and greatness ;) Why do they do this? According to my Scottish co-worker back at Greyfriars, it's just what you do-- habit, more than anything. She said once, "I'll go up to a table with their food and thank them, and walk away thinking 'Why did I just do that? I'm bringing their meal to them. I'm doing them a favor!'"

So there you have it. I'm not entirely sure whether British people just hate to miss an opportunity to be polite, or whether it's mere compulsion...But the fact remains: Everybody is sufficiently thanked. All the time.

Similarly, they like to apologise. A lot. As in, I just heard a server in the cafe where I'm sitting walk up to a table and say "Sorry, Americano?" as she brought someone their coffee. I have suspicions that these compulsions are connected. But that's a linguistic adventure for another day.

in want of a snappy title (post-move discoveries)

So it’s been nearly two weeks since I moved into this new (and by “new” I mean, pretty old and kinda manky) flat in Glasgow. I wrote this whole long post detailing the exciting time we had cleaning this quirky old flat, including several thrilling discoveries (a gumball machine, two fondue kits, an assortment of about seven cheese graters. and a disproportionate number of spoons) and some truly inspired prose about Aya’s and my Amazonian strength whilst moving all the oddly placed furniture about the flat (who puts a loveseat in the kitchen and the flat’s only table in a bedroom? WHO?).

But that post (almost-post?) was written on the first night in the flat. A lot has happened since then.

Since this new endeavor has finally allowed me the space and peace of mind to begin wedding-planning, I figure it’s not too inappropriate to describe my time in Glasgow in those terms. I know this seems unrelated. Bear with me because it really, really isn’t :) So, I give you Christy’s Guide to Using a Major Life Change as a Wedding Fitness Plan. Yes, it may be in want of a snappy title. (True confession: I’m so hopeless with titles that my supervisor came up with the one that’s written on my dissertation). But whatever the title, I’m telling you—it gets results ;)

Step 1: Move to Glasgow

First, you’ll burn plenty of calories in the stress that it takes to find a flat, and in the restless nights you’ll have tossing and turning over whether it’ll fall through like it always seems to do. Then there’s the matter of physically lifting all your earthly possessions! Bonus points if you have to move it to several other destinations first. Double bonus points if you have to move it up 4 flights of stairs upon arrival.

Step 2: Clean Your Flat

Now, if you’re living in a normal person’s flat, which gets cleaned even every year or so, you probably won’t get the full benefit of this exercise. What you really want is a flat that hasn’t been cleaned since about the 1970s—we’re looking for a nice thick layer of grease and grime here. Then, since it’s obviously unlivable, scrub every countertop, floor, tile, windowpane, appliance, fixture, crown molding, dish, pot, pan, and utensil in the place. Once you’re finished, everything that’s not scrub-able. If you haven’t worked up a sweat yet, you’re not doing it right.

Step 3: Do the Laundry

Now, part of step 2 requires quite an old school flat to begin with—none of these fancy new clean buildings. If you’re lucky, you’ll end up with a flat that has a retractable drying rack hanging from the ceiling. Do a couple loads of jeans and haul that baby up to the ceiling to dry. Feel the burn right through those triceps!

Step 4: Enlist Your Flatmate

Thus far, all of our steps have been exercise-based. This one’s got to do with diet. Feed your body good things! I’ve found my Belgian flatmate to be particularly helpful in this endeavor, as she doesn’t like processed/pre-packaged foods. Thus, more cooking. And more cooking healthy things. Wedding-ready body, here we come! (Take care: Belgian flatmates as well as fiancés often enjoy beer, but be careful not to ingest too much. It can undo all that good work!)

Step 5: Be a Little Broke

Curbing spending? Never fear. No better way to keep from over-eating than not being able to afford your chip addiction!

Step 6: Get a Service Job

By now your memories of lifting furniture and boxes are probably fading pleasantly into the distance…along with your muscle tone. Quick fix? Get a full-time waitressing position at a French-American style bistro (…in Scotland? The identity crisis isn’t crucial, but it sure is funny :)). Heavy plates, high volume of customers, lots of walking in circles, and long hours that make you skip dinner (because you’re serving it to someone else!)…not to mention the twenty minute commute time!

Step 7: Don’t Bother With a Car

Speaking of commute times, living in the city is the perfect choice for your getting your body looking fit for that wedding dress. No car means walking everywhere. All the time. (Don’t feel too bad if you hop on the subway once in a while just to escape the cold.)

Step 8: Internet’s Probably Overrated, Too

Looking for a sure-fire way not to sit on your butt all day? Make sure your landlady’s left the country and disconnected her landline, leaving you waiting a month and a half for an electrician to have an opening to reinstall it. This will ensure that 1) you have to leave the house (run up and down four flights of stairs) every time you feel like refreshing Facebook and 2) you don’t sit around streaming bad TV like you did when you were a hobo living on your friends’ couch.

Step 9: Get Some “Pets”

Want to get your daily cardio without leaving the house? Find some field mice coming up through the gap in your floorboards.  That’s sure to get your heart pounding! Name them Tom and Jerry (okay, that’s not necessary for fitness either, but it does make the activity more bearable). Spend a morning running around the house with bowls to catch them. When you do, jog down the stairs to escort them out the front door. Leave one un-caught, just in case you ever want some more indoor cardio. (Alternatively, buy some mousetraps. There are better ways to get exercise in Glasgow).

Step 10: Look Fabulous

Somewhere in the midst of all this activity, look in the mirror and think, “Hot damn! You’re looking fine today!” Because you know what? You are. If you’re pairing all this bizarre activity with being close to your fiancé, planning your fantastic wedding, and having great flat-company, decent job satisfaction and even the prospect of some new friends, you’ll probably be glowing a little. Big city living looks good on you now, doesn’t it?

the real world: couch surfing and stale cupcakes

Well, I made it down the street with all of my belongings, which was kind of a herculean effort in the end. But I'm here in Julia & Tamara's flat, and ever impressed by how fantastic it is to have a place to call "home" for the next couple days before I can move into my flat in Glasgow. (Well, we sign all the paperwork tomorrow, so I'm still waiting for the other shoe to drop...Fingers crossed it doesn't fall through at the last minute like last time!)

After the insane night of cleaning and packing and certainly not enough sleep, I drove with Julia & Tamara to drop our friend Amanda off at the airport on Friday-- she's flying home to the states, and saying goodbye was THE WORST! .... So after we saw her to security and tried to convince her just to stay and stay, we self-soothed with cupcakes, which made it a little better (but they'd gone a little stale so the relief was fleeting ;)).

Shopping in Edinburgh was a better remedy-- I invested in a fabulous pair of Levis and some bright red Chanel lipstick in an endeavor to remind myself that yes, I am a grown up, despite the fact that I'm crashing in my friends' flat and subsisting on stale cupcakes. (Well, actually that last part is a lie. They've been using me as an excuse to cook, which I really don't mind!)

We had the laziest Saturday known to man yesterday. I think we didn't even thought about changing out of our pj's till about 4 pm.  But I kinda think we deserved it, don't you?

So all in all, the "real world" is a kind of surreal and a little bit hobo-ish at the moment. My hosts are both at work (because they're not bums, like me, who quit my job in anticipation of a move that ended up not happening quite like I'd planned...oops...) and I'm here, job-searching and re-packing my belongings and drinking coffee. And feeling extraordinarily thankful for my friends.