He’s in front of me at Rhodes, pumping gas into his 4X4 Dodge Ram pickup, a Cardinals hat smashed on his head, hair sticking out from all the edges. After checking his phone, he puts the pump back, screws on the gas cap and gets into his truck. Right behind him, is a college girl in her Prius, waiting with her blinker on, patient, hoping he’ll notice the line forming. He doesn’t look. He drives straight through oblivious to her existence.

Rudeness. I used to think that meant slammed doors, profanity, the middle finger raised in solidarity to obtuse behavior. As I think more about it, disrespect is quiet and egotistically driven. It’s all about being wrapped up in their own moment that no one else matters. Other people stop registering as human beings and instead are in the way, objects to be pushed aside.

My nine to five is driving. Mornings. Afternoons. Occasionally all day behind the wheel of a Nissan Versa, my passenger trusting me to get them to their research visit in one piece. Communication is part of the job. Some participants talk the whole way, to hear themselves or justify their behavior. Either way, little room is left for listening. Those who talk like that? They feel disrespected and cheated. The world owes them.

And I don’t get it.

It’s easy to hear someone who is talking at you. It’s harder to listen to someone who doesn’t say much.

I don’t believe this is generational. I am starting to believe it’s a discipline. You have to take your time to slow down and notice what’s happening, not react. It’s inconvenient. Hard. And often requires a face to face conversation. Not a text message.

Alissa listens professionally. At their worst moments she gives each patient her full attention, putting her phone on do not disturb, making sure she doesn’t miss a thing. That simple act of attention is exhausting hour after hour. If her client doesn’t feel seen? Their posture changes, shoulders droop, eyes aimed to the floor, instead of facing her. When you pay attention and see someone their entire demeanor changes.

That change is what I’m thinking about. It’s not manners, although it’s part of it. Respect is the belief, recognizing the person in front of you matters. Their time is real. So are their feelings.

Pretzel, our goldendoodle, never looks distracted when Alissa comes home. Without fail her whole body wags, full attention given to her, like she’s the only person in her world. And I’m not saying we need to greet each other like dogs. Sniffing each other’s rear ends in public would be weird. But I am saying there’s something honest in that kind of presence. When did we trade away presence for an illusion, one that says we’re too busy to give you our full attention?

I hear, “It’s complicated,” frequently. What if it’s not? Look up. Wave at the young coed and let her go first. Put down your phone when someone is speaking to you. Treat the next person you see like they are the whole point of your day.

Value the person standing in front of you. Everything else comes from there: kindness, consideration, patience, respect.

Anyone else feel this?