I mean, he *says* it’s fine, but you just know there’s, like, only one seat left – and if you get on, then *someone’s* going to have to stand for the rest of the trip.
So, I grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area, but I moved to Edinburgh later in life.
This is relevant, I promise.
Many of the most-profound instances of culture-shock that I encountered had to do with “giving lifts” to people… and I’m not just talking about [the abject insanity of driving in Great Britain](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BZmmM3i7qTc).
See, in and around San Francisco, it’s pretty common to offer rides to acquaintances. If you’ve been over at someone’s apartment for a party, for example, you tend to figure out who needs to go where, then coordinate impromptu carpools at the end of the evening. As long as people aren’t going more than about a half-hour or so out of their ways, folks are pretty comfortable with accepting the offers, and the “Oh, are you sure?” exchanges are brief.
In Scotland, though, things were markedly different.
I never quite grasped the social underpinnings of this phenomenon, but according to some of my British friends, the act of accepting a favor from someone means that you’ve indebted yourself to them. There’s allegedly an entire algebra of markers, obligations, speculative investment, and negotiation going on, with that final element taking place via coded debate:
——
“Welp, I suppose I’ll be heading off, then.”
*Translation: “Does anyone need a ride?”*
“Yes, it does look to be about that time.”
*Translation: “Yes, I’d like a ride.”*
“Oh, are you leaving, as well? May I offer you a lift?”
*Translation: “I’m leaving right away. Are you ready to go?”*
“No, no, I couldn’t possibly trouble you!”
*Translation: “Yes, I am ready to go.”*
“It’s no trouble. Your flat is hardly out of my way.”
*Translation: “I mark this favor as being worth about ten pounds.”*
“Really, I’m happy to just take a cab.”
*Translation: “I’d rather spend twice that than feel like I owe you.”*
“You’ll be waiting for ages! Besides, I’d appreciate the company.”
*Translation: “Alright, let’s say three pounds and a packet of crisps.”*
“Are you certain? I’d hate to be a bother.”
*Translation: “Fine, but I’m going to pick a flavor that I know you hate.”*
“Honestly, it’s not a bother at all. I’m parked around the back.”
*Translation: “Got you, sucker! I like all of the flavors!”*
“Brilliant! Just let me get my coat.”
*Translation: “I need to say my goodbyes to people, which will take twenty minutes.”*
“No rush! I’ll just hit the loo before we head off.”
*Translation: “You bastard, you said that you were ready to go!”*
——
Like I said, I never really mastered any of this… so I’d just short-circuit the whole thing by loudly declaring that I was an uncouth American, reminding would-be passengers that I was accustomed to fifteen minutes being a *short* drive, then pulling a sort of reversed kidnapping on them before they could argue.
They still protested, of course, but only because I was going against a time-honored tradition.
**TL;DR: Favor-flinging foments fierce fighting for friends.**
I mean, he *says* it’s fine, but you just know there’s, like, only one seat left – and if you get on, then *someone’s* going to have to stand for the rest of the trip.
Anyway, if you like my comics, I’ve got more on [my website](https://www.butajape.com/comic/).
Taarof
So, I grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area, but I moved to Edinburgh later in life.
This is relevant, I promise.
Many of the most-profound instances of culture-shock that I encountered had to do with “giving lifts” to people… and I’m not just talking about [the abject insanity of driving in Great Britain](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BZmmM3i7qTc).
See, in and around San Francisco, it’s pretty common to offer rides to acquaintances. If you’ve been over at someone’s apartment for a party, for example, you tend to figure out who needs to go where, then coordinate impromptu carpools at the end of the evening. As long as people aren’t going more than about a half-hour or so out of their ways, folks are pretty comfortable with accepting the offers, and the “Oh, are you sure?” exchanges are brief.
In Scotland, though, things were markedly different.
I never quite grasped the social underpinnings of this phenomenon, but according to some of my British friends, the act of accepting a favor from someone means that you’ve indebted yourself to them. There’s allegedly an entire algebra of markers, obligations, speculative investment, and negotiation going on, with that final element taking place via coded debate:
——
“Welp, I suppose I’ll be heading off, then.”
*Translation: “Does anyone need a ride?”*
“Yes, it does look to be about that time.”
*Translation: “Yes, I’d like a ride.”*
“Oh, are you leaving, as well? May I offer you a lift?”
*Translation: “I’m leaving right away. Are you ready to go?”*
“No, no, I couldn’t possibly trouble you!”
*Translation: “Yes, I am ready to go.”*
“It’s no trouble. Your flat is hardly out of my way.”
*Translation: “I mark this favor as being worth about ten pounds.”*
“Really, I’m happy to just take a cab.”
*Translation: “I’d rather spend twice that than feel like I owe you.”*
“You’ll be waiting for ages! Besides, I’d appreciate the company.”
*Translation: “Alright, let’s say three pounds and a packet of crisps.”*
“Are you certain? I’d hate to be a bother.”
*Translation: “Fine, but I’m going to pick a flavor that I know you hate.”*
“Honestly, it’s not a bother at all. I’m parked around the back.”
*Translation: “Got you, sucker! I like all of the flavors!”*
“Brilliant! Just let me get my coat.”
*Translation: “I need to say my goodbyes to people, which will take twenty minutes.”*
“No rush! I’ll just hit the loo before we head off.”
*Translation: “You bastard, you said that you were ready to go!”*
——
Like I said, I never really mastered any of this… so I’d just short-circuit the whole thing by loudly declaring that I was an uncouth American, reminding would-be passengers that I was accustomed to fifteen minutes being a *short* drive, then pulling a sort of reversed kidnapping on them before they could argue.
They still protested, of course, but only because I was going against a time-honored tradition.
**TL;DR: Favor-flinging foments fierce fighting for friends.**
Introverts be like:
I’m Canadian. I’ve been in this position. I just hate to inconvenience anyone…
This is my mom. Smh
Men.
fine: feelings i’m not expressing