A friend called and told me, “I feel guilty.” “What do you feel guilty about?” I asked. “I feel guilty, because when I receive all of those stickers from charities, I keep them and don’t send donations.”  

“First of all,” I replied, “you don’t have to pay for something you didn’t order.” But, if you really feel guilty, just put the stickers into the enclosed envelopes and send them back to where they came from.” “I don’t feel that guilty!” she said.

A sheet of stickers sent by a charity costs nine-cents, but research has shown that by sending these “gifts,” donations go way up.

The Japanese word for “Thank you” is “Sumimasen” which means, “This will not end.” When I open my mailbox, I know they are right. It’s all about reciprocity. In its purest sense, reciprocity means, “rewarding a kind action,” but since many people interpret it as an obligation to return a favor, others have found ways to take advantage of the guilt.

A social scientist sent out 600 Holiday Greeting cards to a randomly selected group of strangers. He received 200 responses. Some of the cards even included those printed Holiday letters telling him all about families he had never met. I guess these folks figured, “What the heck, it’s better to send a card, than feel guilty about someone we don’t remember.”

Another experiment showed that if waiters include mints on the check tray, their tips increase, and if a waiter adds extra mints---along with a smile to let that customer know he is special---the tip is even bigger.

Reciprocity becomes uncomfortable when instead of rewarding a kind action; it is converted into an obligation to return a favor. Like Yogi Berra said, “Always go to other people’s funerals, otherwise they won’t go to yours.” And of course, reciprocity can take an ugly twist when returning a “favor” turns into tit for tat.
Reciprocity in friendship is certainly different from mutual dislike---just ask the descendents of the Hatfield’s and McCoy’s.

The author, Alice Thomas Ellis was skeptical of mutual exchange altogether. She said, “There is no reciprocity. Men love women, women love children, children love hamsters.”

When my son, Josh was in first grade, a little boy came to our house to play. When he left, one of Josh’s toys was missing. “What do you suppose happened to the toy?” I asked Josh, who nonchalantly replied, “Johnny put it into his pocket.” I called Johnny’s mother, told her the story, and said, “I’m sure Johnny forgot he has it.” “Impossible,” was her reply. “I’ll be right over,” I said. After a short search, we found Josh’s toy. I said to Johnny, “If you want to keep Josh’s toy, you need to give him one of yours.” “I don’t want to” was Johnny’s response---so much for reciprocity. His mother took the toy and told me they were moving to Alabama. I went home and counted the silverware.

Esther Blumenfeld (scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours---OW!)