The Spanish "Actitud"

I mentioned before that “awkward” really isn’t a part of Spanish culture – un marrón can mean an awkward situation, but there is just no way in Spanish to call a person “awkward." I take this to mean that Spaniards are all just so guay (cool) that awkwardness simply isn’t in their genes.

As I think about it more, however, I notice that the lack of awkwardness coincides with a certain attitude of directness. For example, during the first week of classes I wanted to switch to a higher level language class because the one I was put into was much too easy, so my friend (who also wanted to switch up) and I approached the professor and, at her invitation, went to her office hours. She shares an office with the other language professor, whose class we would be switching into, and barely had we started explaining why we wanted to switch, when the two of them began chastising us in increasingly louder and faster Spanish, and we sat there, sandwiched between their two desks, our heads bobbing back and forth from one profesora to the other, trying desperately to follow what they were saying, and even more desperately trying to understand at what point exactly we had done anything to make them this mad.

To summarize, they told us that they thought we were very impatient, that they have been running this program for years and know what they are doing, that they thought we belonged in the class that we were in, but that if we were going to whine and pout about it for the whole semester then they would switch us because they didn’t want to deal with it. When I left their office I felt a bit like I had been smacked over the head with a two-by-four. Did they really think that I was impatient and whiny?? But wait - I’m not like that! I swear! I went home and wrote a very apologetic email to both of them explaining why I had wanted to switch up, that I had clearly not understood how this system works, that I trust their judgment and would be perfectly content in whichever class they thought was best. The next day they switched me up. And now they both wink and smile at me when they see me in the halls, as if it was all just so funny.

The moral of the story is that Spaniards live by the mantra: say what you mean, make your point, and then move on. No gentle tip-toeing “diplomacy” – just say it already, jeez. No beating around the bush, walking on eggshells, or any other English metaphor that really just means not saying what you ACTUALLY mean. For God’s sakes, people, say it! Better yet, yell it! Get it out there! And for the love of God - stop apologizing for everything!

…At least, that’s what I imagine Spaniards saying to Americans if they ever were to stop being so cool and Spanish for a minute and notice all of our apparently unnecessary niceties.

Don’t be too nice to your friends – being “polite” is actually rude to do with people you’re very close with, because courtesy and sugarcoating create distance between people. In circumstances of confianza (trust), rather than stumbling all over the formalities of “could you/can you/would you please…” you just say: “you’ll pass me the beans?”

In fact, if you want to show your friend that you’re mad, you’ll be super-polite. Rather than raising your voice (which is apparently not a sign of actual anger) you can just whip out your conditional-subjunctive conjugation combo and poof! You’re mad.

It is not customary to leave tips in Spain, and the wait staff might be nice and they might not. They will glower and mutter and roll their eyes as much as they please, and take their sweet time doing whatever it is that they’re doing back there, because they’re certainly not waiting on you. They don’t care what you think of them; if you like them, great - if not, well, no importa because they get paid no matter what and your opinion has nothing to do with it.

Having worked in customer service, smiling like a jackass to make tips, I can very much appreciate how liberating it would be to throw that jerk-off customer’s attitude right back in his face (act-itud!). But being a customer who is (in my opinion) very polite and appreciative, I am constantly caught off-guard by snippity, impatient salespeople. I want to say to them, hey! I am buying your stuff! Be nice to me!! But in my surprise and anxiety to not be an obnoxious American, all I ever do is blink and say lo siento…

Spaniards are feisty, and they like it that way. Everybody seems to snap at everybody, but nobody seems to be actually angry. It’s as if they want you to yell back at them, to retaliate in the lively, brash lengua corriente, so that they know what kind of cajones you got. The more aggressive and offensive you are, the higher your score. Bonus points for expressive hand gestures. Well, if they are measuring according to the degree of in-your-face retaliation, then I have absolutely no cajones whatsoever. Unfortunately, you don’t get credit for thinking feisty responses in English, or for muttering them to yourself in Spanish after the fact. Nope, it must be an organic eruption of irate Spanish passion - or it don’t count. But in the heat of the moment, of course, all I can manage to do is blink furiously and stalk off in mute frustration.

Spanish men, in helping themselves to a hearty (and maddeningly obvious) once-over as a woman passes and offering up their choice of provocative comments, almost seem like they too want you to yell back – put them in their place. (Or maybe they seem like they want that because I want to do it so badly). Oh boys, you had better wish I don’t get an even semi-coherent grasp on colloquial Spanish anytime soon… you just wait. If there is one time I really, really wish I could whip around in a fiery Spanish non-rage with wonderfully expressive, perfectly-formed profanities sailing effortlessly from my mouth, it would be on the street between the hours of 2 and 6 am. Well, actually, on the street at any hour. And really, I feel like Spain is just waiting for me to be able to do this, and each time I come closer and closer to actually doing it. They want me to do it, and I want me to do it, so why the &$%$#@ can’t I $#%*@*¥# do it already!?? @*&%!!

And my language professors call me impatient? Bahh.