Being Nice is the real thing

By Jen Semanco
Sun contributor
Every seventh grader at my middle school was required to take a class called “Guidance.” This class was supposed to help “guide” us through the beginning of adolescence — to teach us how to make good choices, to educate us about our changing bodies, to build our self-esteem. Towards the end of the course our teacher gave us a simple class project. Everyone was to write their name at the top of a piece of notebook paper and that piece of paper would pass through the hands of each of our classmates. We were to write a compliment about the person whose name appeared at the top of the page. I anxiously waited to get my paper back, curious to see what my peers thought of me. I began to read down the list of self-esteem boosting comments: “You’re nice.” Okay, next one. “You’re really nice.” Uh huh, I get the picture. “I don’t know you well, but you seem nice.” What? “Nice?” That’s all I get? I’m sure there were other comments, but I couldn’t get past the fact that I was merely a “nice” person. The only people I wrote “nice” for were the people I didn’t know or the people who, in my mind, had no other outstanding qualities. Nice secretly meant boring. To say this exercise scarred me in any way would be a stretch, but I can tell you that I didn’t walk out of class that day with the “warm fuzzy” feeling (my teacher’s words, not mine) that I was supposed to have.

Now that I’m older, I hope that people would still include “nice” on my list of good qualities because I’ve learned that there are a lot of people out there who really aren’t nice at all. When I work at the Leelanau Coffee Roasting Company during the summer I encounter people who are rude, impatient, snooty and sometimes downright mean. I don’t get it. I don’t understand what anyone gains from being mean. I see only one way to deal with people like this — the old cliché “Kill ‘em with Kindness.” I refuse to take part in anyone’s quest for conflict so my retaliation is rooted in smiles and manners. I actually feel bad for people who are so miserable that they feel the need to verbally abuse the girl trying to give them their latte.
Everyday we are all confronted with trying situations. People cut you off on the road; the person in front of you in the checkout line at the grocery store is stocking up as if Y2K was happening all over again while you only have two cans of soup; babies cry — it’s all part of everyday life. For as nice as I’ve proclaimed to be, I’ve been known to be a road rager, a silent curser and a hopeless whiner. But, I’ve learned that ultimately it’s much easier to be nice. We can’t always control our circumstances, especially unfortunate ones, but we can choose the way we react to them. In fact I just had a computer glitch that caused me to lose the last paragraph I wrote so I now have to start it over (really, I’m not making that up). I know that a lot of times it’s really, really hard to stay positive and not take out your frustrations on the people around you, but here’s some advice on what to do. Think of something that will always make you smile. The easiest way for me to get to my “happy place” is to think about the day I got my dog from the Humane Society. Really, I am forced to smile when I think about her as a puppy. See, I’m smiling now and I’ve completely forgotten about my previous computer problem, well … almost.
The other day I was talking to a wise man (Mike Hasselbeck) and fellow teacher. He said he always told his class to “never mistake his kindness for weakness.” How true. Treating people with respect won’t get you beat up on the playground. I would say it’s quite the opposite. It always makes me laugh when people say things like, “The reason I don’t have a girlfriend/boyfriend is because I’m just too nice.” I have never in my life had a conversation with anyone who has said, “You know, I’d really like to date ______, but he/she is just too nice!” Chances are, the reason you’re home alone on a Friday night has very little to do with your overabundance of niceness. I should also say that I’m very weary of over-the-top-syrupy-sweet nice people. You can usually spot a faker fairly easily. They often call you “hon,” have beady, sinister-like eyes, and use too much inflection when they talk. Be on the lookout.
I can’t write an article about being nice without briefly touching on the old adage about “nice guys finishing last”. All I can say is that I’ve never been very competitive and if the race is life — well, I don’t mind being one of the last ones standing. Glen Arbor is full of nice people. To find a town full of nice people can be as rare as finding one with beautiful sand dunes — we’re lucky to have both.