The Capital of Rudeness.

The MadOne is a veteran traveller. I don't travel (strange people, strange food, strange smells, strange beds.....) so I do so, vicariously, through her. She (and her hub) seem to enjoy it. Lots. They come back with fantastic photos of elephants roaming outside their mud huts in South Africa (MUD, like, no air conditioning, no hot water, no TV to watch the cricket on, see my issues?) and great tales of shopping in Chinese markets, haggling using a calculator and the poo-pits on the Great Wall, etc.
Her last trip was to the States. Now, beautiful friends of mine moved to the States for a couple of years and invited us to visit. Which we would have. Except for the Americans.
Now, I don't actually know too many Americans, but really, they voted for George Dubble-ya, right? And they're mostly all like George Costanza's parents, aren't they? Yes, I know that's all very stereotypical, but remember my global roaming is limitted to watching American detective and forensic- type shows, The Simpsons (BANNED in our house, my BoyChild#1 is allowed to drink alcohol at 18, but not watch Simpsons until he's left home), and, well, Seinfeld. So, you can see what I mean, right? Take the Americans away, and I'm sure it would be a lovely place to visit. And yes, having Obama as Prez does improve things a bit, except that BoyChild#2 thinks he's Tiger Woods, but that's another story.
So, the MadOne comes back with kilos of Tootsie Rolls (lollies, not toilet paper, as I'd assumed), Support Our Troop Fridge Magnets, her usual regalia of hilarious-can-only-happen-to-them stories, and email addresses of Oldies in Gated Communities she's met along the way, and, well, because I can ask these things without offending or concern myself with subtlety (which I can't do, nor fake very well either apparently), I asked her how she managed in a country full of Americans. And I learnt 2 things.
1) Apparently they're not all like Mr & Mrs Costanza, and in fact the benefits of travel is that you get to see behind the stereotype and meet some actual living, not Hollywood-stylized, real people.
2) Also apparently, most of them are lovely. At least likeable. And, POLITE.

POLITE.

Which brings me to today's rant.

Australians aren't polite. And the Capital of Australia is, in my vast & wordly experience, the Capital of Rudeness.

Now, I have a theory. Many in fact, but today's pertains to why I think Aussies are not polite.

We just don't give a shit.

Case in point:
People who are service-providers don't need to provide service, because we aren't on $3 an hour and relying on tips to make a living. Most of us, at some stage, has been a checkout chick, chippie's offsider, or some such thing, often while we're still at school and need to earn a bit more pocket money than what the Olds are willing to fork out. Americans have crap wages and rely on tips to actually eat, so they fall over themselves to provide good service. Apparently, if you order a SkinnyLatte, you aren't met with a death glare that says you're ass is the size of Tasmania, why are you bothering? They want to know what else they can do for you. They say Thankyou. They wish you a nice day.
Even if an Aussie is on commission, the chances of them making a half-assed attempt to help you out are equal to Paris Hilton having a brain cell. Nada. Nix. Zero. Zilch.
One of many irons in the fire is being a mystery shopper, and even when retailers know they are being visited within a certain timeframe, it's all just too hard. How many of us have sat around ALL frigging day long, waiting for an electrician/plumber/gardener/builder only for them not to bother showing up or having the courtesy to phone and tell you so? And most of these people don't get paid unless they work, but still. Don't give a shit.
When was the last time you showed courtesy on the road, and have the other driver actually wave a thanks? The last time someone walking out a door will hold it open for you, your pram and 62 parcels you're carrying?
Today (yes, finally getting to the rant) I went to our local Mall, where a certain area of carpark is kept closed until 9am to ensure nearby office workers don't park there all day. About a quarter of this carpark is designated for Parents with Prams. At 9:07 when I entered, there were about a dozen cars parked, leaving probably close to a hundred spare, some Parents', most not. Each car that parked either side of me contained a smartly dressed Rep-looking person, who couldn't be stuffed to drive their car the extra 5 metres so they could leave a space that's ever so slightly wider than most, to someone with one of more small child, pram, and 62 parcels of shopping. Don't give a shit.
How many times have you been served at a Bank, Supermarkets, petrol Station or the like, and had the entire transaction carried out without eye contact or, God Forbid, some kind of engagement or interaction. Now, I worked in the Retail Industry for 8 years, and now spend numerous weekends on Market Stalls trying to convince people to buy my wares (nodding politely as they tell me they can make it themselves. Right o, off you go then), and yes, I have had bad days when it was just very difficult to be polite, friendly and engaging all day long, but really, if you're going to be somewhere for any length of time, surely you're going to try and enjoy it? Not shit on everyone who has the audacity to enter your space that day inconveniencing the shit out of you???
I've worked with people who are greatly affronted when you expect them to actually do they're job. I don't expect miracles, for perople to go above and beyond on a daily basis or any such nirvana-wouldn't-it-be-wonderful-if we-lived-in-harmony hippy shit (that was my 20's, darl!), but really, isn't it too much to ask people to give a shit?