Canadians are the most polite people in the universe. Deep in my gut I have always known this, though scientific research on the subject has been somewhat sparse. However, one can often rely on one’s own personal anecdotal research, can’t one? And moi? I’ve spent much of my fifty-four years apologizing to table legs. I met one of my former loves by stopping to help him with his flat tires. I know whereof I speak. Here’s what I’ve learned in more than five decades of unofficial research, not necessarily in order of importance:
Canadians still hold doors open for other people. They hold restaurant doors, elevator doors (even when they’re not supposed to), and Tim Horton’s doors. If someone is toting a heavy load, they’ll even ask, “Can you manage that?” before going on their way. If we feel the person behind is too far behind us, we’ll let go of the door, but if the door closes so quickly that it almost catches the other person, we wait and apologize.
Canadians hang other countries’ flags right side up. (We’re smart, as well as polite.)
Canadians say “Thank you” to the streetcar driver who whips them downtown. Unless they have been sufficiently brainwashed by their union leaders into believing that common courtesy violates the terms of their collective bargaining agreement, the drivers respond. Just yesterday, I rode the TTC (Toronto Transit Commission) streetcar. As an obviously mentally handicapped young lady exited the car, she said, “Thank you, sir.” See? Even when we’re not smart, we’re polite. The driver, who had earlier roundly lambasted a young man for trying to get on the car minus his t-shirt (“How would YOU like to sit in someone else’s sweat, buddy?”), replied, “Thank you”—and here’s the kicker—“dear.” Canadians say “Thank you” to the Greyhound bus driver who moves them efficiently between Toronto and Niagara Falls. The “to” trip has a Canadian driver; he replies. The “from” trip has an American driver; he’s too busy deciding whether you are going to take him hostage. You cannot sit in the seats directly behind an American Greyhound driver any more. Instead, there’s a sign telling you that for security reasons, find another seat. By contrast, on a recent trip to Newfoundland, a DRL bus driver informed a very young girl with a very young baby and the usual mountain of baby accessories that she must change buses. She stood up, trying to find hand and shoulder space for her belongings. “Here, you can’t manage all that on your own, lovie,” said the driver, a split second before I volunteered. “You take the baby. I’ll carry the rest of the stuff.” I once carried a baby in my lap for two hundred kilometers so her frazzled Mum could have a wee break. OK, so that bus driver and I are both native Newfoundlanders and we are renowned as friendly, helpful people. (Why else would I pick up a guy--the afore-mentioned love-- in a hotel parking lot?) OK, I was born two years before Newfoundland voted to collect Canadian unemployment cheques. Even so.
If you drop your fork on the floor of a Canadian restaurant (and like me, being determined not to be a bother, you spit on it and wipe it clean), a waiter will arrive. He’ll take your order and ask, “Did I hear something drop on the floor?” He’ll bring you a clean fork. Magical.
If your bag lands in the stratosphere of a Canadian airport luggage carousel, some taller person, usually male, with long arms, will say, “That your bag?” and grab it for you before you can reply. Once, such a strong male specimen tried to saddle me with someone else’s bag, but hey! I’ll take over-eagerness over under-nice any day.
Transport Canada, the government department responsible for ensuring federal road safety as well as for harassing helicopter and airplane owners, runs a television advertisement here in the Greater Toronto Metropolitan Area, exhorting Canadians to help prevent road rage. The commercial shows a man behind the wheel of his vehicle, red-faced, arms flapping. The other (female) driver smiles a friendly smile and executes a friendly finger-waggle wave. I’m not sure about this one. It’s not clear who cut off whom, but if she’s the culprit and waved like that after cutting me off, perhaps even my legendary politeness would be a tad eroded. Sorry. Please excuse my momentary lapse off-topic. (See what I mean?) My point was that not only are we already polite, but the government is trying to tutor us into being nicer.
During last year’s Stanley Cup and the NBA playoffs, the Canadian national anthem was booed in several US cities. Did Canadians retaliate by booing The Star Spangled Banner? Uh huh. Canadians ran an unofficial PR campaign to convince ticket holders to turn the other cheek. Which cheek, they did not specify. (In all fairness, if I were in charge of such things, I would name the Raptors’ American-born Jerome Williams an honourary Canadian. “It’s just not right for them to do that,” said Junk Yard Dog, commenting on the anthem booing, and thereby endearing himself to Canadians everywhere. Go, JYD!)
Canadians have not (at least that I’ve heard of) fired on and wiped out their allies. (Mind you, that could be because the Canadian forces don’t possess the firepower. Given the state of the nation’s submarines and helicopters, could the anti-aircraft guns be in tip-top condition?) If they did “accidentally” annihilate a company of Americans, say, I’m certain our prime minister, Monsieur Jean Chretien, would be on his knees to George Bush the moment he heard about it. He might not be able to pronounce “I’m sorry” properly in English, but his tears and the ashes on his forehead would do the trick, I’m sure.
Canadians allow foreigners into the country as refugees, then, being too polite to tell them to go home, allow them to defraud the country’s welfare system.
Why, when I was much younger, a friend of mine would say to his wife after a dinner party, “OK, honey, let’s go to bed so these folks can go home.” That’s how polite Canadians are.
Still have doubts? I did, too, but three news items during the last month in The Toronto Star convinced me that my “polite Canadians” hypothesis is scientifically correct.
Recently Toronto, possibly Canada’s most sinful city though still blessed with the label of “Toronto, the Good”, has been hit with a rash of carjackings. While some carjackers were what you’d expect carjackers to be—mean, nasty sons-of-bitches (perhaps not native-born Canadians)?—one carjacker, according to police reports, accosted a woman outside her home. After forcing her to drive around to various ATM machines to remove all her good Canadian dollars for his nefarious use, he stole her vehicle. But—get this!-- not before he drove her home.
Another carjacker-with-a-soul also stole a lady’s ATM dollars and her car, but kindly gave her enough of her own money for cab fare back to her house.
Today’s Star reproduced part of the security video footage of a man who supposedly robbed two Hamilton banks this week. I’m pretty sure this guy is Canadian. He’s wearing a white t-shirt with the word “Toronto” printed above the maple leaf ensign. He’s also holding open the bank door for the woman in front of him!
Now, I ask you, are Canadians not the most polite people in this world? I rest my case.
Copyright 2002 Ev McTaggart
Best regards,
Leland