Does anyone else remember the McDonald's commercials back, back, long ago where the happy employees were singing and dancing?

Grab a bucket and mop....
Scrub it bottom and top...
There is nothing so clean...
As my burger machine!

Remember? I do. I was one of those enthusiastic McDonald's employees for 6 years during the "You deserve a break today" and "Two all beef patties, special sauce..." era.

I'll admit, even filtering out my self-image of superiority, the service industry employees of today are a bit less zealous about their products. But is it entirely their fault? I think not.

Yesterday, I had occasion to be in line at fast-food restaurant. I was in line behind a man who coldly walked to the counter, sighed, and curled his lip impatiently as the employee approached the register from cleaning the frozen dairy dispenser. A pregnant pause transpired before the employee spoke robotically.

"For here?"

"To go." The reply was cold and impersonal.

"Okay, what would you like?" Something like that.

"Blah, blah, blah. Can I have extra catsup for the fries?"

"Your order comes to..." Whatever.

I was saddened by the whole interchange. Two people, members of the same community, yet the interaction was impersonal and distant. Where was the humanity? Why, I wondered, couldn't the two of them treat each other with some degree of regard?

My thoughts turned to a good friend of mine who we will call Troy. (That's, of course, because his name is Troy.) Troy is, by his own self-report, a different kind of person. My wife says he does not endure fools graciously, and she is generally right in all things. Troy and I used to work together, and our desks were in close proximity. I'll never forget overhearing him talking to an Amtrak ticket agent. It was a long conversation about ticket prices to which Troy eventually declared, "Can you tell me in a way that makes sense to a normal human being why I can get a round trip ticket for $50.00 less than a one-way ticket?"

In all things, Troy is certainly a people person, and loves to interact with people. As co-workers, we often went to lunch, and often ended up at fast-food establishments. Troy was keen to add a little twist to the dialog.

"Welcome to [wherever], may I take your order?"

"Well," Troy might reply, "that depends."

Nowhere in their training were they prepared for this.

"First, tell me something..."

The cashier, at these moments, was usually taken aback, to be sure. Then, Troy would take the conversation—for by now, it was so far off the training script, and it had become truly a conversation between two people—to some bizarre place.

I recall one time at an ice cream parlor he asked, "Is today bigger-than-normal-scoop-day?"

"Is it what?"

"Is it bigger-than-normal-scoop-day?" This was said with so straight a face, the young man assumed it was just something he had never before encountered.

"What's that?"

Here, Troy just went on, sort of ignoring the question.

"'Cause if it is bigger-than-normal-scoop-day, I am only going to get one scoop. Otherwise, I want a double."

Imagine, at this point the young man blinking in disbelief, then turning to the older (wiser) co-worker who was a few steps back smiling at the whole interaction. The older employee just shook his head.

"I don't think it is," the young counter-worker replied.

"All right then, give me a double scoop of chocolate in a sugar cone."

Another time, another ice cream parlor, Troy replied to the "can I take your order" by reading the nametag and remarking, "Mary. That's a pretty name. I bet your parents gave you that."

Confounded by the obvious, the young lady just nodded. Troy went on.

"Do you go to Central High?" (I made up the name of the school.)

"I do."

"Well," Troy continues, "do you know Mrs. Jones, the math teacher?" (I again am making up details.)

"I do!"

"She's a good friend of my wife's sister." (Details made up, but yes, Troy has that kind of people sense. He goes on for half a minute before ordering.)

Now, from these examples to, perhaps a point? Troy has never been one to overlook the humanity of people. He not only interacts with them to get the ice cream ordered, but he connects with them as humans, too.

"I like the way your name is spelled," he might say to our own Johne Cook. "Not all people have an 'e' at the end of John." Troy's curiosity would likely lead him to inquire further—sincerely—about the name, its origins, its meaning.

While the bigger-than-normal-scoop-day cashier might have been confused, there is no doubt that the dialog there went beyond the robotic, cold, and distant interactions most typical these days. There is no doubt that some form or true human interaction.

So, back to yesterday, after seeing the man and worker so lifelessly transact their business, and reminded by my friend's efforts to humanize his similar exchanges, I tried something.

Taking my turn at the register, the man looked up from putting away the bills the previous customer had given him. He looked tired and a bit stressed. I swallowed and took a risk.

"How are you doing today?" My voice was genuine and I sought to make eye contact.

"Doing good." His tone suggested a bit of surprise, but he smiled. I'd swear his postured relaxed a little bit. "Is this for here or to go?"

"I guess," I said trying to do justice to Troy's legacy, "if you'll let me, I'll eat here."

He smiled again, and said, "That'll be fine." He was playing along.

I proceeded to give him my order, make payment, and received my change. The whole encounter seemed to me a vast contrast from the one before. That I attempted to reach out and interact with him as a human being is the only thing I can see as being different between my experience and the one I had witnessed.

So, does one case, a principle make? No, but I'd bet that anyone else willing to genuinely attempt to interact human-to-human with the vast majority of service workers would find their experience much more pleasing. Sure, some workers are just having a bad day and nothing we do will have any affect, but I'd suggest that this is the exception, not the rule.

Since lunch yesterday, my schedule had me visiting two other food establishments and a hardware store. Applying this approach, every single interaction was more than rote get-to-the-point experiences. In each case, I saw smiles and felt true humanity.

Give it a try! If we all do this—if it could catch on as the norm—then where would it end? Let's see if we can return humanity to our world.