It seemed like a little thing but was actually quite maddening.
My husband and I stopped at a drive-thru fast-food place the other day, where he ordered a simple cheeseburger and was given a deluxe version he hadn’t ordered, complete with bacon, which he didn’t want.
When we pointed the error out to the cashier, she told us it didn’t matter because they were the same price. Which they weren’t. And she completely blew by the fact that the main reason it mattered was because it was not what he ordered.
I asked her to fix the error and she was churlish as she handed over the correct sandwich. She became downright surly when I told her I wanted a refund of the difference in price. She practically threw the dollar into the car. When I asked her to refund the tax paid, as well, she refused. “We are forbidden by law from giving back tax money!” she asserted with indignation.
What? I thought the ban was on collecting “tax money” that won’t actually be forwarded to the Internal Revenue Service.
The point is not, of course, that I almost got cheated out of a dollar or the few pennies in taxes. I've given more than that away simply because someone asked. Nor is the point that there’s a cashier somewhere who is not very good at her job.
It was her inability to be incorrect about something, even something as trivial as that. I suspect she didn’t know how to cancel an order and issue a refund. Had she said that, I’d have let it go. But her in-my-face approach didn’t make me feel like cutting her any slack.
She’s representative of something that seems increasingly common — the tendency to speak with complete authority but no actual knowledge. We see it in politics and on social media and in talk radio, in social settings and family reunions and … everywhere. We all want to be right, me included. And few of us seem to have the grace to admit we made a mistake, were misinformed or simply feel clueless.
When was the last time you heard someone say, “I don’t know, but I’d be glad to find out” or “Let me see if I can figure this out” or “Let me find someone who can actually help you”?
I have to watch myself on that score, too. It’s not easy in what increasingly seems like a world of genuine know-it-alls to admit that there’s so much I do not know. The temptation is there to bluster and provide an answer — any answer to appear that I’m on top of things.
I’m making a concerted effort to rein myself in on the traits that make me crazy when I encounter them in others. I know that anger begets anger: I am absolutely floored at how furious I can get if someone leans on the horn because I’m not moving fast enough when the traffic signal changes. Instead of getting mad, I’m trying to wish the person well. Occasionally, I manage it.
I'm also making a genuine effort not to get short-tempered with people who aren’t responsible for the problem that's confronting me. If a store has a return policy that seems unfair, for example, yelling at the man at the customer service desk doesn’t help. I am trying to remind myself in those situations that if he had enough clout to set the policy, he wouldn’t be working at the service desk.
And when I don’t know an answer, I have given myself permission (sometimes it feels more like forcing myself) to say so. And to then enjoy learning something new.
Email: lois@deseretnews.com, Twitter: Loisco