But I mainly came here to talk about a habit I have. It's something I've noticed I do for quite some time. (Consider this a prelude to a much larger ramble, although said larger ramble might be best posted on the mafia site which it draws material from the most. If so, I'd still be doing one here, but not a carbon copy.) And that thing I do is...well...
You know how when people say, "thank you", most people respond "you're welcome"? Or maybe there's an occasional "don't mention it"? That's my impression of what's 'normal' to respond to someone giving thanks to you. Well, every time someone gives thanks to me, instinctively, a different response comes from me:
I don't know about you. But to me, that response actually sounds a little bit...timid. Shy, you could say. Like, this is all just small stuff, but "you're welcome" in a way sounds like giving thanks for the act is something that should be done, that the person saying "you're welcome" is expecting praise from their words, that their action deserved the thanks that it got. Thus, why sometimes people will sarcastically say "you're welcome!" when someone's been rude or disrespectful to them, generally with them having helped that person out.
But "no problem", to me, just sort-of feels like it might be too far in the other direction. In response to the praise of thanks being given, the response is...well, that it's nothing special. It's not a problem to be done. It's not something worthy of being praised, so no need to feel indebted to the person who did it.
It's not a conscious choice for me to use "no problem". Nor have I, until just now, really thought about it, but the more I think about it, the more I think that I must have subconsciously realized it and started to adapt the habit at some time. Because in my mind, deep down as it was until just now, it was me being more humble.
I guess it makes sense, though. This is real life we're talking about. I'm the kind of person who held a door open for five minutes because I looked both ways to see if anyone was coming, and if they were, I'd keep it open, even if it inconvenienced me. Since then, I've regrettably grown less charitable rather than more, much to my regret. (Among other causes is that I awkwardly misinterpret body language, so I'm not sure if I'm supposed to hold the door open for them or they want to open the door for themselves or if they want me to go in first and so on. I cause traffic accidents because I'll let go when I should have held, thinking I should have let go, or awkwardly, held on when I should have let go, creating standstills. I might "get" people in an abstract, conceptual way better than almost anyone; it's my gift. I might be able to apply said gift online with people. But in-person...I literally cannot figure it out. Believe me, I've tried. To be perfectly honest, I think my efforts there have left me a bit bitterly selfish because I've given up hope of being a sociable person.)
Still, though...the fact that I was that sort of person gives you the impression for what I'd do. I didn't mind it. It was no problem for me. It wasn't something that I saw as praiseworthy. For me, helping them in however small way I did was an action that just made sense to do. Because that's just the sort of person I am. It doesn't show up often, particularly when I'm trying to act tougher than I actually am.
But while I certainly want to be praised for doing good, while I certainly feel good when doing good, for me, when doing good, I don't think I actually expect it. I just do it because I want to do good. This goes a bit into personalities, which is the separate ramble I'm talking about, but I got all of the above from just that simple language choice difference. It's such a small, subtle thing. But in spite of that...I think the words hold meaning. I think I'm right, that I'm onto something, and that by looking at what words I use, I've revealed a lot about myself...stuff which might not necessarily be new, but which I've rediscovered all the same.
Or I could be arrogantly BSing, but it's nicer to think otherwise.