America Exceptionalism Makes Our Waiters Nicer

Yesterday I linked to Rich Lowry and Ramesh Ponnuru’s excellent article on American exceptionalism , in which they say:

To find the roots of American exceptionalism, you have to start at the beginning — or even before the beginning. They go back to our mother country. Historian Alan Macfarlane argues that England never had a peasantry in the way that other European countries did, or as extensive an established church, or as powerful a monarchy. English society thus had a more individualistic cast than the rest of Europe, which was centralized, hierarchical, and feudal by comparison.

[ . . . ]

America was blessedly unencumbered by an ancien régime . Compared with Europe, it had no church hierarchy, no aristocracy, no entrenched economic interests, no ingrained distaste for commercial activity. It almost entirely lacked the hallmarks of a traditional post-feudal agrarian society. It was as close as you could get to John Locke’s state of nature. It was ruled from England, but lightly; Edmund Burke famously described English rule here as “salutary neglect.” Even before the Revolution, America was the freest country on earth.

When we discuss the idea of American exceptionalism we tend to focus on foreign affairs, forgetting how much it has shaped out own domestic attitudes. For example, our lack of class structure and other “hallmarks of a traditional post-feudal agrarian society” causes us to take for granted assumptions about how all people deserve equality of opportunity and respect. This, in turn, may be the reason that our customer service differs from other countries—like France.

As BBC correspondent Emma Jane Kirby found while traveling through Paris , the French strongly resist anything that makes them feel subservient:

The fact is Parisians employed in any service industry simply do not buy into the Anglo Saxon maxim, “He who pays the piper calls the tune.”
The revolution of 1789 has burned the notion of equality deep into the French psyche and a proud Parisian finds it abhorrently degrading to act subserviently.

This Sunday, a Parisian friend of mine waited in line at the fruit and vegetable stall of his local market. When it was his turn to be served, he asked the seller for a kilo of leeks. “They’re at the other end of the stall,” snapped the vendor waspishly. “Take a bit of exercise and get them yourself.”

There is no mistaking the undertone, “I’m not your slave.”

At my doctor’s, the two dour receptionists are quite delightful when we meet on the street, sharing jokes and asking kindly after my broken leg. Back behind their desk, however, they brood and scowl. There is not even a gesture of recognition, let alone a friendly smile.

On the street it is acknowledged that we are equals but, once back in the surgery - in that uncomfortable position of service provider and client - the receptionists become wary of a potential shift of power and are quick to squash any assumptions of superiority.

As my editor Joseph Bottum once noted , “There are many ways to understand the fact of American exceptionalism, and thus many ways to argue whether the United States does, or does not, still warrant it.” It’s certainly a minor way to understand the concept, but the fact that people who work in the service industry in the U.S. tend to be nicer here than in countries where people feel insecure about égalité , is once reason to believe the claim is still warranted.

So the next time you get good service at Applebee’s, leave a generous tip and be thankful that you really do live in an exceptional nation.