by Alex Marshall, Editor, Spotlight on the Region
There's a new, highly visible ad campaign called "Ask A New Yorker" that promotes the city's citizens as not only smart, chic and tough, but friendly, helpful and generous too. [see www.askanewyorker.com] And while there's a certain amount of truth to that, the campaign brings to mind a different experience I had with asking New Yorkers just after I moved to the city more than twenty years ago.
Asking questions of strangers back then taught me something about what manners were in a crowded and sometimes dangerous city. They weren't the same as where I had been living previously, and perhaps not the same as they are now here in the city.
I was a graduate student at Columbia University then, and a wide-eyed and enthusiastic explorer of my new beloved home. When I was walking the streets, I would often approach strangers and ask for directions, maybe the time or some other odd bit of information.
Being a good southern boy, I would inevitably preface my requests with at the very least an "excuse me," and sometimes more than that. And after the words had left my mouth, I would often see my intended recipient stiffen, and a shadow of fear cross their faces as they wondered "what does this big guy want?" "Should I be on guard?" "Is this some kind of con," and various other thoughts, or so it seemed to me.
Seeing this happen time and time again, I decided that in a big city I needed to be even more polite, so I would begin with an even longer preamble. Approaching someone on a subway platform, I would begin by saying, "I hate to bother you, but I was just wondering if you could . . ." This, to my surprise, worked even worse. They would stiffen even more. Sometimes, they would turn and walk away, completely ignoring me.
I would always feel stunned when I was cast into the role of urban predator or con man. Being six foot seven, I was aware that I was a somewhat dominating presence. What could I do to make my presence more innocuous?
It finally hit me after awhile. Be less polite. I realized through experimentation that if I asked short questions very directly, the people I asked would not have time to be scared of me. My mother would not have approved, but it worked in New York.
Henceforth, I would come up to people and bark out questions with an unsmiling, neutral countenance, imitating some stereotypical image I had in my brain of New Yorkers. "What time is it?" "Where's the subway?" "Which way is uptown?" I would ask, catching the person's eye, in a sort of gruff, what's-it-to-you voice.
It worked. Getting directly to the point bypassed the questionee's defensive barriers. They didn't have time to make assumptions about me. Instead, the question went instantly into their brain, where they could evaluate it quickly as an innocuous one, and then respond with the desired answer of "3:15 pm," or "Next block over," or "That way." New Yorkers did tend to be helpful, I found, once engaged. They just didn't want to waste time or get mugged.
Does less polite still work better in New York? Does stripping one's language, both verbal, body and facial, of ornamentation still help? My suspicion is, not as much. As the city has become safer and more prosperous, ornamentation has returned to our conduct, like the addition of plaster curlicues to a bare frame building. We smile more now on the sidewalks and squares, we say excuse me and thank you more, and allow small talk to pass between us and strangers on the subway. It's a good thing.
Despite this change, I still ask questions pretty directly though, when on the street. Seems to work.
There's a new, highly visible ad campaign called "Ask A New Yorker" that promotes the city's citizens as not only smart, chic and tough, but friendly, helpful and generous too. [see www.askanewyorker.com] And while there's a certain amount of truth to that, the campaign brings to mind a different experience I had with asking New Yorkers just after I moved to the city more than twenty years ago.
Asking questions of strangers back then taught me something about what manners were in a crowded and sometimes dangerous city. They weren't the same as where I had been living previously, and perhaps not the same as they are now here in the city.
I was a graduate student at Columbia University then, and a wide-eyed and enthusiastic explorer of my new beloved home. When I was walking the streets, I would often approach strangers and ask for directions, maybe the time or some other odd bit of information.
Being a good southern boy, I would inevitably preface my requests with at the very least an "excuse me," and sometimes more than that. And after the words had left my mouth, I would often see my intended recipient stiffen, and a shadow of fear cross their faces as they wondered "what does this big guy want?" "Should I be on guard?" "Is this some kind of con," and various other thoughts, or so it seemed to me.
Seeing this happen time and time again, I decided that in a big city I needed to be even more polite, so I would begin with an even longer preamble. Approaching someone on a subway platform, I would begin by saying, "I hate to bother you, but I was just wondering if you could . . ." This, to my surprise, worked even worse. They would stiffen even more. Sometimes, they would turn and walk away, completely ignoring me.
I would always feel stunned when I was cast into the role of urban predator or con man. Being six foot seven, I was aware that I was a somewhat dominating presence. What could I do to make my presence more innocuous?
It finally hit me after awhile. Be less polite. I realized through experimentation that if I asked short questions very directly, the people I asked would not have time to be scared of me. My mother would not have approved, but it worked in New York.
Henceforth, I would come up to people and bark out questions with an unsmiling, neutral countenance, imitating some stereotypical image I had in my brain of New Yorkers. "What time is it?" "Where's the subway?" "Which way is uptown?" I would ask, catching the person's eye, in a sort of gruff, what's-it-to-you voice.
It worked. Getting directly to the point bypassed the questionee's defensive barriers. They didn't have time to make assumptions about me. Instead, the question went instantly into their brain, where they could evaluate it quickly as an innocuous one, and then respond with the desired answer of "3:15 pm," or "Next block over," or "That way." New Yorkers did tend to be helpful, I found, once engaged. They just didn't want to waste time or get mugged.
Does less polite still work better in New York? Does stripping one's language, both verbal, body and facial, of ornamentation still help? My suspicion is, not as much. As the city has become safer and more prosperous, ornamentation has returned to our conduct, like the addition of plaster curlicues to a bare frame building. We smile more now on the sidewalks and squares, we say excuse me and thank you more, and allow small talk to pass between us and strangers on the subway. It's a good thing.
Despite this change, I still ask questions pretty directly though, when on the street. Seems to work.
@RegionalPlan
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