I Didn’t Go Looking for Rudeness

I found it on vacation.

My wife and I had escaped to the beach for a week of sun, rest, and the kind of fun that’s supposed to slow life down. But somewhere between the sand and the souvenir shops, we began to notice something that didn’t belong there. At first, it was subtle—easy to dismiss as a coincidence. Then it kept happening. Again and again. Almost everywhere we went.

Or so it seemed.

Whether we were shopping, grabbing a bite to eat, or renting a beach cart, the same experience repeated itself. It wasn’t the town. It wasn’t the season. It wasn’t even the businesses themselves. It was something else entirely. What we noticed—what we felt —was rudeness.

The first encounters happened in a few beach shops. We’d walk in, and the employee would be sitting or standing behind the counter, eyes down, saying nothing. No greeting. No acknowledgment. No eye contact. We were invisible. We browsed the store in silence, wandered past displays, and eventually headed for the door—still without a word. As we walked out, passing right by the employee, the silence remained unbroken.

It got so predictable that we began joking about it. As we stepped outside, we’d say sarcastically to each other, “Have a great day!” or “Thanks for coming in!”—the very words we never heard.

As our awareness grew, our behavior changed. We stopped browsing politely through awkward silence. If we walked into a store and no one acknowledged us, we simply turned around and walked back out.

One experience crossed from frustrating into almost comical. We entered a shop where the employee was on her cell phone. She looked directly at us as we walked in—and then continued her conversation. We browsed for several minutes, glancing her way, waiting for even a brief pause or a simple greeting. It never came. We walked in, we looked around, and we walked out without a single word exchanged.

During that same beach trip, we stopped at a local ice cream parlor, expecting a simple pleasure—a sweet treat on a warm day. What we got instead was a lesson in how unnecessary rudeness can sour even the smallest moments.

Before a single word was spoken, the tone was set. Customers weren’t welcomed by a smile or a greeting, but by a large sign posted front and center: CASH ONLY. At the counter, another sign delivered its own message: NO FREE SAMPLES. Long before we interacted with a person, we were already being warned.

The employee behind the counter was working alone and could clearly see the line growing. Still, there was no acknowledgment—no “I’ll be right with you,” no eye contact, no reassurance that we’d been noticed. People stood quietly, shifting, waiting, feeling it. Everyone felt it.

When it was finally our turn, the transaction was efficient but empty. We paid in cash. We received our ice cream. Not a word was spoken. No “thank you.” No “enjoy.” No human connection at all. The next customer stepped forward and the pattern continued.

Nothing about that moment required rudeness. The shop was busy. The employee was alone. The rules may have been necessary. But courtesy costs nothing. A greeting takes seconds. Acknowledgment takes intention.

The atmosphere didn’t just feel cold—it was heavy. It lingered. And it affected everyone in the room.

That’s the thing about rudeness: it’s rarely isolated. It spreads quietly, shaping the experience of every person who walks through the door. And more often than not, it isn’t caused by pressure or policy—it’s caused by the absence of hospitality.

And that absence is always felt.

That’s when it hit us: this wasn’t isolated. It wasn’t accidental. And it certainly wasn’t harmless.

Rudeness is rampant.
Rudeness is exhausting.
Rudeness is unnecessary.

The challenge: Rudeness will just show up at will. Be ready to interrupt it with kindness.

Ask yourself:_ what words of kindness do i need to add to my vocabulary?_

_ _

Hospitality isn’t a feeling — it’s a practice. Now go practice it.