‘Thank you.’ ‘No problem’

A few weeks ago, driving in Albuquerque, we noticed a couple — one steering, both pushing — who’d run out of gas close to a service station.

With my wife driving, I did the Good Samaritan regimen, hopped out of the passenger’s side to help them get their Chevette up the ramp to the gas pumps on Montgomery.

Now most people would be thankful for anyone, even a 69-year-old at the time, who agrees to add a few pounds to the pushing, but that wasn’t the case. Instead, I was treated to some choice language (redacted here, in this family newspaper) that only irate out-of-gas Chevette owners can express.

They didn’t direct the invective at me; rather, they hollered around me. “I told you to fill up the f—— car before we left the house. But no-oo, you had to be Mr. Tight A–.”

“Why don’t you shut your pie-hole, you f——- b—-?”

They continued exchanging pleasantries, not noticing that someone had made their car-pushing easier. But in fairness, I assume their reciprocal rage took precedence over meeting, greeting and fist-bumping a pusher from outside the family.

As I broke away, I uttered an oleaginous, sarcastic “Thank you for all your help!” And the husband yelled out a hasty “no problem” to no one in particular. As I got back into my car, I noticed their out-of-date bumper sticker.

The message, which had been partially torn off — and rewritten with a broad marker, presumably by the driver — told us mortal motorists that Bush and Cheney were protecting our collective sorry posteriors, but they spelled it “assess.”

That’s a good way to start the day in the Duke City: run out of gas, blame your partner, ignore the help, and display a political message likely to offend.

The fact that I gave an ironic thank you to the sparring man and his “wummun” doubtless spurred him to say “no problem.” But that’s what the person who performs the favor is supposed to say.

Or something like that. Notice that even in non-dry-Chevette situations, “no problem” has become the vernacular, the much more popular substitute for “You’re welcome.”

But its meaning goes way beyond “you’re welcome.” Once, in assigning a term paper that had to be submitted by a certain date, I approached a student whose paper failed to make it into my “in” basket at Luna Community College.

She’d been in class when the deadline was announced, so clearly she knew the rules. Her explanation was simply that, “I gave it to my friend to deliver, and for all I know, she forgot.” Then she added, “No problem,” as in, not my problem.

“No problem?” She had a big problem. But rather than rehash the details, let me explain that to her, apparently, her friend’s failure to submit the paper was “no big deal.” When I asked the student to contact her friend about the missing assignment, you can guess her reply: “No problem.”

It grates on some who construe “no problem” as too casual for a gracious “thank you” or “I’m sorry.” Others have no problem with it. One online source explains: “The person offering thanks is grateful for the service performed by the one being thanked, and a gracious ‘you’re welcome’ acknowledges the gratitude.”

Some people shorten the response to “no prob” or even the pseudo-Spanish version, popularized by Bart Simpson, “No problemo.” The frequency of “no problem” depends somewhat on the amount of effort required of the person being thanked.

Recently, when a Checker Auto clerk spent 15 minutes installing a tail-light on my car, my effusive thanks could justifiably have been answered with “no problem.” But if the gratitude involves the mere performance of one’s job, “You’re welcome” is better.

• • •

Klare Schmidt, a frequent contributor to this column, recently responded to an item in which I mentioned that my dad always insisted we men tip our hats, even if wearing a baseball cap.

Klare writes, in part:

“I attended a nunnery school in Germany, kind of a convent prep school for girls, at a time when gentlemen still wore hats which they tipped while passing by a Catholic Church; there were 152 of them in pre-war Cologne. The be-hatted gentlemen tipped their hat when passing by anyone who greeted them on the street.

“My dad hated the custom because it mussed up his hair and it was difficult to replace it without a mirror. Anyway, silly and giggly 15-year-old girls that we were, we walked down the street and picked out a poor guy with a hat.

“Then we stretched out; there were at least 10 of us, and two-by-two walked past our victim, very politely greeted him and even did a little curtsy; yes, nice little girls from convent schools still did those things in those days. We didn’t know the bearer of the hat, nor did he know us, and as he would tip his hat, you could see this big question mark on his face: ‘Who in the h— was that?’

“A few steps further the next two girls repeated the exercise. Then we would go around the block, find another victim and repeat the procedure, all the while doubling over with laughter.

“Then came the big surprise: When we arrived at school, those nuns already knew about our prank and we got a very stern talking to. How they found out that fast remains a mystery. But then nuns are known to have a direct line to the Great Upstairs.

“That was about the extent of our sins; therefore, one could actually say that we were Good Girls.”