"Thank You" and other strange conventions

Just when I thought Nacho Cheese was pulling the upset, I've just learned that an unruly sabateur has been employing a dastardly technique known as the "multiple vote." Indeed, it's a Cool Ranch world and we're all living in it. Nacho Cheese people, your stock is falling. After this last debacle, you're on par with Philadelpha Eagles fans. Next stop, Kiss supporters. Denim Douche is the state of Florida and this debacle is the dimpled chad. But alas, I understand. The zesty taste of Cool Ranch (I refuse to add the -er, for reasons of moniker stupidity) is enough to drive any man, woman, or child crazy with Ranch envy. Cain killed Abel for exactly these reasons. Theology scholars, you know what I'm talkin' bout.

Anyway, this entry isn't completely about the immediate fallout from the chip wars. It's about "Thank You" and other strange conventions. Because that's what the title says. I don't steer you wrong vis a vis the title. (I briefly consider changing the title to something about Koala bears just to fuck with you. Nah.)

You see, the other day I was sitting in class when a stack of papers was being passed down the aisle. I took my paper and handed the remaining pile to the girl behind me. "Thank you," she said. Two words: more than enough to get the gears turning. Why did this girl thank me? I didn't do anything. I handed her some papers. That is a completely unremarkable task. It's not like I went out of my way to do anything like hold the door for her, or pick up something she dropped. No, I just continued the assembly line of paper-passing, and she thanked me. I feel like "thank you" should be reserved for things I really don't have to do. I don't have to pick up your pen. I don't have to hold the door for you. But I do. Thank me. If I had for some reason bizarrely refused to pass on the papers, that makes me a dick, and then you should tell me to fuck off. I'd have it coming, and being a logical human being, I'd probably nod in agreement as you were verbally abusing me.

So I think I've got a pretty firm handle on the "thank you" phenomenon. I thank people when they go out of their way for me. Got it. So later in the day, I'm aboard the blue line heading back towards W lot. I get off the bus. "Thank you," I say to the driver. "You're welcome" she says. I listen to the people behind me. Do they thank the driver? No. I am a good person. These people suck. Why not thank your friendly civil servants? But wait...Ah, the gears start turning. Why did I thank HER? Maybe I was in the wrong here. The bus driver has to drive me around, this of course according to the Anti-Discrimination Law of 1977. It would be absolutely unreasonable and of course, illegal for them to refuse me a ride. Furthermore, they're being paid to do a service and I expect them to do it. Why, then, do I feel the need to thank the bus driver, but not the person passing me a stack of papers? Where is the line? What is the difference?

There is none. That's why it's a strange convention. (See: title.) I guess we all make up arbitrary times where we feel the need to thank people, and where we don't. I suppose it's the same random process by which people decide how much to tip wait staff. Who knows. Maybe you were expecting a grand revelation in this paragraph, but I fail to completely wrap my head around it. Could be the booze.

Allow me to conclude by not thanking you for reading this. It would be completely illogical for you to not read it. It's stimulating and it makes you smarter. Why would you deprive yourself of this? You're welcome. You're so very welcome.

Now, for your viewing pleasure, here is an old picture I photoshopped, spelling my name out of letters from band logos. How many can you spot!?