I was just on a little trip to Switzerland and Austria, it was about theater and tiles, because – as many of you know – I am, among other things, a hairstylist, i.e. a tile manufacturer. My little company is called “Association for Refinement of the World Surface”. (I state that the surface of the world in northern Europe was sealed only insufficiently and rather tastelessly).
What struck me – not for the first time – was the harmonization of manners and customs in hotels everywhere. For about five years now, it has been the practice that the mostly young staff in the accommodations speaks on a first-name basis without being asked.
First it was in Apple Stores. Suddenly the employees of the most remote company in the world were on first-name terms. The company, which uses every tax loophole, doesn’t let anyone look at its cards and acts completely independently and disinterested in the wishes of its customers, dares to treat its customers like children. Instead of asking if the “Du” would be acceptable, it is simply installed without being asked.
I suspect that they want to force us to Americanize. The honorificum – i.e. the polite form with the “Sie” – is supposed to show the other person honor and respect. Conversely, this means that Apple neither wants to honor nor respect me. And this form of disrespect is now part of the general tone of voice in most hotels.
I’ve gotten into the habit of staying with the “you” when dealing with the young employees, but this doesn’t irritate them at all. They stupidly keep their “you” and twist the polite relationships. Actually, the old should use the first-name terms for the young and the young should use the familiar-form form for the old. At least that’s how it used to be.
On the other hand, I’m bothered by the bad manners that meanwhile, unsolicited house music is playing everywhere in hotels and restaurants, in elevators and breakfast rooms, in swimming pools and spas, even in parking garages. Always a light pumping beat below, behind and above everything else. What bothers me the most about it is the disrespect towards house music. Because house music wants to be loud, fulfilling, penetrating, invigorating. Wants you to dance to her, sweat, undress, get excited and merge with her. House music wants sex.
But as it is, she seems tied up to me. Like a racehorse on Valium. A top wine without alcohol. A Ferrari with a lawnmower engine. If so, dear Young Urban Professionals, at least turn up the music. Let’s dance while eating, shopping or parking. But this eternally cowardly tamed and throttled just sucks.
Author photo by Kerstin Behrendt
This and other images are by Rocko Schamoni here orderable.