“I love those tattoos,” are words that have never escaped my lips, at least until mid-September when I approached a heavily-inked couple on the streets of Austin.
I was a little nervous about how they might take this compliment. I don’t have the look of a tattoo aficionado: I’m 63, with no tattoos in sight. My most distinct article of clothing is a “Tony’s on Broadway” T-shirt, and I radiate the vibe (accurately) of a total square. But they love the compliment – they even like the shirt – and we chat happily together for a few minutes. They’re tattoo artists from Lancaster, Pennsylvania, and had recently visited my hometown of Washington, D.C. They had enjoyed the museums, found the street design confusing and were keen to discuss whether Pierre
L’Enfant’s heavy use of traffic circles would confuse invading infantry.
This was one of the first of many such compliments I would give that day in Austin, all part of a personal experiment in my Year of Living Socially. Research has shown that compliments are important speech acts – often fundamental building blocks – in the construction of social relationships and rapport. They are social lubricants, with strangers and friends alike. But many of us are a bit tongue-tied when it comes to offering compliments, thinking, in the words of one researcher, that the recipient will be “bothered, uncomfortable and annoyed.”
It’s a shame, because it turns out that people generally like compliments, even from strangers, and both givers and recipients can get significant social boosts from the exchange.
My interest in the topic is not random. I’m familiar with the research but didn’t really think about it until a few weeks ago when a passing teenager looked me up and down and said “nice fit.” It took me a few seconds to understand what he meant (nice outfit is the translation) and a few more to process whether the compliment was genuine or not.
Roughly 100 times out of 100 a teenager would be mocking me in such a situation, but something about his demeanor and seriousness of purpose made me think that this one was genuine. I’m not much of a dresser, but perhaps my old University of Buffalo sweatshirt and the shoes that I have been wearing so long that they have gone out of style and come back in made for an attractive retro “fit.” Regardless, I took the compliment seriously and it gave me a positive jolt on what was an otherwise drab, unremarkable day.
Anyone who has worked with me, or lived with me, knows that I have never been much of a compliments guy, but I know that compliments can be the grease of social relationships. And if my Year of Living Socially means anything, it means getting out of my comfort zone and engaging with other people. So last weekend, with my friends Matt and Tatiana trailing along to shoot video and make fun of me, I hit the streets of Austin with my experiment. Would we all be lifted up by this simplest of human interactions, or I would trip over my own tongue?
Giving compliments is a good idea. Here's why
Truth be told, it was a little bit of both. Matt urged me to compliment every single person I saw on the street, but there are a lot of people who hard to compliment at a single glance: no distinctive clothing, no babies, no pets, no body ink. I wasn’t able to cough out a compliment about half the time. But the other half? It almost always landed and people were almost universally pleased to hear from me. I complimented people on their smiles, on their sports affiliations, on the fact that they looked happy together, on their babies and dogs, on their vibes, on their attractive clothing. I’m not entirely sure why a few superficial words from a stranger created little moments of joy, but they indisputably did.
The best moments, at least for me, was when the compliments led to a longer conversation. I met Charles the Dog, or at least his owner, who recounted that Charles had died in his arms just two days before. It took 13 minutes to get Charles to the vet, which I would have thought was a crushingly long time in such a circumstance, but apparently the vet was able to save him despite the delay. All was well now with Charles.
My final compliment was perhaps the most gratifying. At the end of the afternoon, Matt, Tatiana and I retired to a café, to celebrate my newfound sociability. As we approached, Matt spied a young man, dressed in business casual, laptop open, working away and challenged me to do one final compliment.
I was tired, a bit whiny at this point, and didn’t know what to say. Fortunately, I was able to corral a passerby – a young woman who introduced herself as Zebra – who advised me to simply say that I was hoping he wasn’t working too hard on Sunday afternoon.
As I approached the table, my target rose to greet me. He introduced himself as Daniel and told me he was waiting for an agonizingly late business meeting. As he waited, he was stuck himself, reviewing his notes, and I suspect getting progressively more nervous.
There was something instantly likeable about Daniel – maybe it was the way he got at eye level with me, maybe it was just his openness – and I told him that I liked his vibe. Just like the tattoo compliment, that is something I’ve probably never said before. But in truth, I did like his vibe, and I hope that our exchange added some relief in what was otherwise an undoubtedly anxious afternoon.
Compliments turn out to be a rather easy win-win. They reward both the giver and receiver and remind us that the city is not just a random assemblage of passersby but rather a community of humans. I’ve noticed compliments come easier to me after my day on the streets of Austin. But if you don’t know where to start, feel free to compliment this article. I know it will make me feel good.
Ken Stern is the author of "Healthy to 100." You can follow his year of living socially on Instagram and TikTok.
This article originally appeared on USA TODAY: I used to fear giving compliments. Here’s why I think you’re awesome
