german mean
Sick again, with a sinus infection and the kind of sternum-rattling cough that creates worried looks on the U-Bahn and rumors that the plague is back in town. Been staying in as much as possible, which is boring, but the last thing I want to do right now is go out and have more communication issues with grumpy Müncheners. Yesterday I went to get a library card at the Universitätsbibliothek (more stressful than it sounds) and realized just how much more difficult it is to explain to stymied librarians that NO, I’m an American, YES, this is my residency permit, and it IS a legal ID, when you only have one working ear and a tuberculan cough.
I want to talk about the antithesis to Midwest Nice: German Mean. Are Germans mean? Maybe. Northerners probably more than Bavarians. Do Americans think they are mean? HELL YES. My first day here, I was almost reduced to tears by an old man on the U-Bahn yelling at me to move my bags. I didn’t understand why—couldn’t he see that I was just some silly American, overdressed in a sweater and overcoat, with a big old suitcase who just needed pity?
But uh, that’s not really how it works here. I’ve come to understand that people here aren’t mean, they’re just used to doing things in a certain fashion and they don’t want to deviate from it. That guy on the U-Bahn was yelling at me because in the U-Bahn, you place all your shit in a way that’s not going to disturb other people. In other words, he was saying “Hey American, why do you have your suitcase in the middle of the row? Now we can’t get through. MOVE YOUR SHIT.” Was it constructive? Yes, I moved my shit. Was it jarring? Hell yeah. At home you just kind of tolerate someone being an asshole, here you call them out on it until they stop being an asshole. Lesson learned, man on the U-Bahn.
Related: why don’t Germans say excuse me/sorry/love/call you a friend? Because those are big fucking words that mean big fucking concepts. They think that when an American steps on your foot and apologizeapologizeapologize, it’s disingenuous. Why are you so worked up about my foot, asshole? It’s just a foot, and you can’t actually be that sorry about stepping on my foot, and if you are, what’s wrong with you? Same thing with all the other examples. It’s just a different way of doing things, and frankly, I am starting to LOVE not having to “ohmygod sorry sorry sorry!” whenever I bump into someone on the street.
