People like being right.  It’s just sort of who we are.  We love the satisfaction of knowing that we’ve won.  We’ve proven our superiority.  We’ve crushed our opponent.  What’s great about “The customer is always right” is the fact that we’re ALL customers… all the time!  Woohoo!  This means that I’m right all the time, no matter what…period.  Now this is a lens I could get used to viewing reality through!

So how do we underscore our right-ness?  We complain.  We complain loudly.  We complain loudly to entities whom depend on positive public perception for their continued prosperity.  We pitch the biggest fit we can, and we get what we want.  Don’t feel like paying that fee?  Pitch a fit.  Don’t feel like paying the asking price?  Pitch a fit.  Don’t feel like paying for the meal your entire family just enjoyed?  Invent a story about a hair being found in your soup, pitch a fit, and pay nothing.  Don’t like the answer you got from the front line associate?  Ask for a manager, and pitch a fit.  Demand to receive what you want, how you want it, when you want it, at the price that you dictate.  After all, the customer is always right.  Right?

Here’s the problem.  “The customer is always right” philosophy was developed with rational human beings in mind.  This philosophy became mainstream at a time in America’s history where people took pride in their work, helped their neighbor, acted selflessly, showed gratitude, gave generously, pushed through difficult times, and came out on the other side stronger, wiser, and more able.  None of these describes our culture today.  We’re selfish, ugly, belligerent people, and we want what we want.  We love words like deserve and right, and we have a mental shopping list of every privilege and every shiny new toy to which we’re entitled.  “The customer is always right” was never meant to please the unpleasable.  It was never meant to pacify lunatics.  But it’s been wrapped and coiled and mangled by the selfish and the clueless to become the entitled person’s mantra.  Give. Me. What. I. Want.  I am always right. 

Here’s the second problem.  We think we’re customers in every facet of our lives.  We’re always right with our friends.  We’re always right with our spouses, and we’re always right in our churches.  That’s right!  In church, we’re paying customers.  We give our tithes and offerings, so we’ve got skin in the game. So if the pastor decides to do something that we don’t like, we simply withhold our payment.  We vote with our dollar.  We financially take hostage God’s church and we cut off the ministry.  Because the music is too loud.  Or the dramas aren’t funny.  Or the pastor isn’t entertaining enough.  Or the carpet in the sanctuary should never have been changed to blue.  Or the piano belongs on the left side of the stage.  We want what we want, and if we don’t get it, we simply don’t pay the tab.  We’re the entertain-me-right-this-second generation, and we don’t have time to fool around with anything that isn’t custom-tailored to our particular set of preferences.  We’re always right.

But – just imagine – what if we were radically different?  What if we daily chose a completely different perspective – on purpose?  What if we chose to break from mainstream entitlement thinking, where life isn’t always about me and my comfort and my stuff, but rather possessed hearts full of gratitude instead?  What if every time I close my eyes, I’m flooded with goosebumps as I ponder the simplicity of the things I take for granted, like sight, and smell, and music, and food, and air conditioning, and nerve endings, and Tennessee football, and hands, and butterfly kisses, and a job that provides, and a church that’s alive, and a family that’s warm and loving and healthy, and friends like no other, and Tennessee in the Fall, and air in my lungs, and the smell of bread baking, and fireworks, and cool breezes, and laughing until I can’t breathe, and my parents, and the mountains, and the deer in Cades Cove…  What if, I spent my days – ON PURPOSE – thinking of every blessing in my life and acknowledging how I would have nothing and be nothing if it weren’t for His grace?  What if I pondered the punishment I deserved and praised King Jesus for my redemption, my forgiveness, and my abundant, joyful life?  What if, when I’m tempted to stomp my feet and demand what’s mine, I instead close my eyes, smile, and experience gratitude as I drink in simple grace?  How might we all be different?  How might it change the way things are? 

There is an alternative to the rat race, keeping up with the Joneses, and nervously scheming past customer service representatives in pursuit of our next free entitlement – View it all through the lens of gratitude.  An attitude of gratitude is one of the secrets to truly living life to the fullest.  So let it all go, take a deep breath, and drink in the simple wonder of life.  Be generous.  Be grateful.

I have a quirky set of pet peeves. For instance, one of the most intense turn-offs to people with whom I interact is phoniness. I despise insincerity, and I have no patience for put-ons. If someone is unwilling to be genuine, I am often unwilling to emotionally invest in them. One of the fastest ways you can reveal your level of sincerity is through your use of words.

Words matter. However, we don’t treat them like they do. We flippantly throw around social phrases and buzz words until they lose their meaning. We fall into patterns of interacting with others through ritualistic, meaningless chatter. We make small talk with one another, discuss nothing, and ask questions that we really don’t care to know the answers to. Why? Because, as a culture, we’re losing our ability to genuinely care about one another.

Michael:“Hey Jason, how are you?”

Jason: “Fine. How are you?”

Michael: “Fine.”

Tada! An empty conversation. What we just read was a script that is recited all day, every day, by 99 percent of us. Imagine what might happen if we were to answer the stock greeting of “How are you?” with an honest reply?

Michael: “Hey Jason, how are you?”

Jason:
“Not too good. My marriage is on the rocks and we’re covered up in debt. I’m not sure how we’re going to pay the bills, and my teenager hates me. We have a leaky roof, and I have a mystery rash on my thigh.”

Michael:
<blink, blink … slowly backs away … breaks into a sprint in the
other direction>

The truth is, we don’t like being real. When we’re real, we open ourselves up to the possibility of rejection. We run the risk of being “that guy” or “that girl,” the melodramatic emotional basketcase whom others avoid talking to due to the time and emotional investment required to do so. It’s simply easier to be bland, empty, and predictable.

Why does it even matter? Many of us believe it doesn’t matter at all; it’s simply how we show politeness to one another. I disagree with this assessment. On the contrary, this is another example of how significance is found in the subtle. These subtle interactions reveal our level of interest in a person. They reveal how much we really care. These conversations typically take place without making eye contact and without real listening taking place. They’re easy. They’re cheap. They don’t matter. There’s nothing about “How-are-you?-Fine,-How-are-you?-Fine.” that is meaningful. This requires nothing of us. The entire interaction is cheap and empty. It sets the stage for further shallow and empty dialogue. When you lead off with this, you place yourself miles behind the starting point of a meaningful interaction with another human being – an opportunity to connect in a way that matters – from a position of influence – in a manner that says to another person, “What you say matters.”

It means something when we speak. Words matter.

If you’re interested in breaking the cycle of insincerity, it will take intentional effort, but I promise that it will be worth it. Significance is found in the subtle. Your relationships will be strengthened, and your level of influence with others will increase. When we break out of shallow habits and meaningless rituals, we add color to our lives. Color is attractive.

Give being intentional a try. You might be surprised by the meaningful connections that begin to take place when we get past our rehearsed responses and get real.

We have a funny way of establishing a person’s worth.

For some reason, we in America have always equated one’s status in life with one’s occupation. I’m not sure why we do it; it’s shallow. But we do it nonetheless. The businessman walking out of a bank in an expensive suit is a bigger deal than the lady wearing a hairnet and a nametag. The guy trading stocks on his BlackBerry peaks our curiosity before the guy wearing oil-stained overalls.

I recently witnessed a perfect example of this unspoken hierarchy in action at a local fast food restaurant. Try to put yourself at the counter with me as you witness this interaction. Betty is at least 60 years old.

Betty:
“I’m very sorry for the delay, sir. We should have your chicken minis ready in just a few minutes.”

Nice Suit Guy: “This is ridiculous! How incompetent can you people be? How hard is it to make sure you have enough breakfast food ready for the people ordering breakfast?”

Betty:
“I’m so sorry, sir. We simply ran out of minis. As soon as we get some more made, you’ll be the first order filled.”

Nice Suit Guy:
“You’ve got to be kidding me! Are you all that stupid? Are you so stupid that you can’t even pre-make enough of your most popular breakfast item ahead of time to meet demand?”

Betty:
“I’m sorry, sir. We’ve sold more than usual today.”

Nice Suit Guy:
“Unacceptable! Whose bag is that over there? Is that an order of minis?” (Here, Nice Suit Guy points to my to-go bag of food that I’m picking up for my staff.) “If it is, I want them. I know I’ve been waiting longer than the person who’s waiting on that order!”

Betty:
“No sir, that bag doesn’t have any minis in it.”

Nice Suit Guy:
“Yeah, I bet. I’d lie too if I got my orders mixed up and had to cover my a**.”

Betty:
“It shouldn’t be but a couple more minutes.”

Nice Suit Guy:
“Can I get someone up here who knows what they’re doing? You don’t seem to want to help me.”

Betty: (with tears welling up) “Of course, sir. I’ll get my manager.”

Betty’s manager scurries up to the counter, only to be berated in the same manner. Within 45 seconds, the customer’s chicken minis arrive. The manager begins to hand the bag to Nice Suit Guy and says, “I’m sorry for the delay, sir. Is there anything we can do to make up for the inconvenience of your wait?” Nice Suit Guy says, “Just give me my f*****g breakfast,” and leaves the restaurant with his two young daughters.

And there you have it. The hierarchy in action. One man, seemingly a “big deal,” abuses one woman, seemingly a “nobody.” And no one really cared.

I’m curious, did that interaction violate your sense of right from wrong? Did it stir up hot anger in the pit of your stomach the way it did in mine? I have to be honest, as I stood there watching the abuse of this poor lady, I couldn’t help but imagine myself stepping up to that man and saying something heroic like, “Hey big guy, you feeling pretty good about yourself? You feeling like a big deal this morning? What right do you have to talk to this sweet lady as if she were a dog? If you’re any kind of a real man, you’ll apologize to her right now. So what’ll it be, tough guy?” … But, of course, I didn’t. Because it wouldn’t have done any good? Or it would have made things worse? Maybe, but most likely it’s because I was, in that moment, a coward.

My friend Mike likes to say, “I may not be a psychologist, but I am an observer of people and their behavior.” I tend to agree with him on this. As a customer-facing professional, I spend my days observing the best and the worst of people. The most unsettling truth that I witness every day is this: People are cruel. Lost people are cruel. Believers are cruel. People are cruel. I’ve heard my associates comment many times on the Christian T-Shirt that a hateful customer was wearing, or the ichthus on the back of the car of an abusive patron. Consequently, there’s a reason most waiters despise working on Sundays.

Let me ask you a question: Is that you? Do you proudly wave the Christian banner, only to drag it through the mud with you as you verbally slap around those in lowly customer-facing roles? Are you a big deal because of your professional success, or do you see others as being more important than you are? Do you say, “Thank you” to the cafeteria lady, the guy that changes your oil, or the older gentleman working the McDonald’s drive through, or are you entitled to your position of superiority because of the money you spend with their company? I think the sooner we realize that we can never purchase the right to be a jerk, the better. I also believe that the sooner we drop this social hierarchy nonsense and recognize people as valuable for whom they are, regardless of their title, we’ll go a long way in sharing the love of Christ.

Sincerity is found in the subtle. The subtle ways in which we interact with others reveals a lot about who we really are. If we claim to love Christ, our actions both big and small will reflect that. If we’re a fraud, our actions will reflect that too. So let me encourage you to be intentional about something. The next time you eat out, be sure to make eye contact with your waitress, learn her name, and tell her what a great job she’s done when you’re finished with your meal. The next time the teenage kid at Burger King messes up your order, show patience to him. The next time your mobile phone bill seems to be high, and you’re not sure why, treat that customer service representative on the other end of the phone with love and respect. Make small talk. Tell jokes. Thank him for helping you.

If we would all make a concerted effort to be slow to anger and quick to show kindness, we really would make a difference. Show love and be kind to people. Be different on purpose. Be intentional about being kind to everyone with which you interact. Give it a try, and see what happens…

• Adam

I have a life’s ambition to write books that will help others to reach their fullest potential.  My smokin’ hot wife has suggested that I begin a blog in order to sharpen my writing skills.

Here we go.

- Adam