I watched as a silent story of dignity revealed itself in -- of all places -- the modem return line at a cable TV /Internet/phone service's storefront.
The store in the Detroit metro area was way too popular on a recent day when I stopped in to straighten out a moving-related matter.
The customer service line stretched 50 feet from the counter. There was no doubt at first glance that entering this store would mean handing over a chunk of time.
Customers stood in two lines. Some had TV devices in their hands, with cords dangling. Some had children's hands in their hands, with mittens dangling on cords. Some had monthly statements in their hands, with questions dangling.
I've observed the same circumstance before. Usually, impatience grew as the time in line stretched. But here, the quiet stayed. Nobody drummed their fingertips, or tapped their feet restlessly. Even the children were quiet. Not miserable, just quiet.
It was as though a silent agreement had been reached, with a pact: "Let's handle this. This is not your fault or my fault. We can't make this experience be delightful for each other, but at least we won't make it any worse for each other."
I think the silent pact stemmed from a common awareness: When a state's economy is rocked by a financial earthquake and a recession stays in place like a financial drought, then the time has passed to sweat the small stuff.
Not making it any worse for each other? I'll get in line for that.
The cars in Michigan are not the only things here with a steel spine.
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