Alan S. Oser

“You’re doing extremely well for your age.”

Thank you, my friend. I will take that as a compliment. I will ignore that gratuitous bit about my age, thank you very much, and focus on the praise. I appreciate praise. Who doesn’t? Praise reinforces self-esteem, or steadies it when it wobbles, or possibly gives it birth. Without self-esteem there is no self-confidence. Without self-confidence we cannot do our best in any task or challenge.

If praise is to be effective, however, it matters by whom, when and how it is delivered. Meted out improperly, it can be taken as insincere, and so do no good at all. I have therefore tried hard to manage my expressions of praise carefully, just as I am glad to accept such expressions willingly.

The “by whom” part is easy. In face-to-face situations, I praise only those I have reason to believe are respectful, in general, of my judgment. When I recognized a famous baseball player for the Chicago Cubs during a stroll on Michigan Avenue one November afternoon long ago, I did not accost him with the observation, “That was a fine throw you made to home plate in the Dodgers game last June, Pedro.” He would not have appreciated the comment coming from a stranger. Anyway, I remembered later that it was the Giants game, not the Dodgers game, and his name is Pepe.

On the other hand, if I were the owner of the team and I happened to run into Pepe, the same praising comment would probably be welcomed. Pepe would take the compliment as a hint that that a raise might be in the offing. The compliment would probably be welcomed even if the boss called him by the wrong name. “My name is Pepe,” he would say with a polite smile. Embarrassed, the boss might be more inclined to make amends financially.

The “when” question is more difficult. Praise should not be delivered immediately after a disastrous failure, when expressions of comfort are more appropriate. Praise should not be delivered immediately after an obvious triumph either, unless it is a mere perfunctory “Congratulations. Well done.” When laid on too thick after a triumph, when it is least needed, praise grows meaningless and tiresome. The praise-giver must always be sensitive to the possibility, and even the likelihood, that praise will be taken as insincere.

The best time for praise is when it is unexpected, and, ideally, spontaneous. It may produce satisfying rewards. “That was a generous thing you did for Beulah yesterday,” spoken to one’s son the day after he allowed his younger sister to wear his baseball cap in an afternoon girls’game, may strengthen the boy’s weak streak of generosity.

The trickiest problem is “how” to deliver praise.

I construct the following imaginary situation to illustrate how to deliver praise: Your son failed his final exam in high school chemistry two weeks ago. He is now booked for a failed grade, which will be a blot on his application for college. Overcoming your paternal instinct to kick him in the pants, you decide that what he needs is soothing and encouragement, not a lashing.

“Max,” you tell him a day later, “It’s not as bad as you think. You have ability in science. You’ve shown it in the past. You didn’t have an opportunity to study for that test as much as you should have. Take another crack at it if you get the chance. You’ll do much better. And don’t worry. You have a lot going for you. You will get into college anyway.”

That pleases him. In fact, it amazes him. “Thanks Dad,” he says, his gloomy countenance brightening. “I think the teacher will let me take the test over again. I’ll ask him.” A few days later you again praise his generosity toward his sister Beulah over the baseball cap. You are on a praise roll, and it seems to be bringing out the best in Max.

For me, praise was effective recently in an unfortunate situation with Rattletrap Rent-a-Car. After turning in the car at the end of a two-week rental in Florida, I realized that I had committed myself to paying twice the charge I expected by signing up my wife as a second driver. When we rented the car after our arrival in Florida, the agent asked me as he marked up the contract whether there would be a second driver. I saw no reason not to say “My wife.” As I later learned, adding a driver raised the rental cost $10 a day. The agent never mentioned this, and I had hurriedly signed the contract without reading it.

When I returned the car, the bill turned out to be $140 more than I expected. Outrageous! I paid, but complained in an e-mail to the company when I got home, cleverly suppressing my indignation. The car was everything a Rattletrap should be, I said, and elaborated eloquently for two paragraphs. Then I nonchalantly mentioned that the bill had unfortunately turned out to be $140 more than I had anticipated through a fault that was entirely my own. And by golly the company granted me a 50 percent refund of the second-driver charge. (Of course, an angry letter may have produced a 100 percent refund. However, I prefer to think not.)

The “how” issue is especially tricky when the praise issuer harbors ulterior motives. Perhaps praise is needed to smooth the way to criticism. Or as preparation for a request for a favor. Since a praiser’s motives will usually be suspect, it is helpful to establish a reputation for offering praise when there clearly are no ulterior motives, so that when these motives do exist praise will be less likely to incite suspicion.

Outrage and sarcasm in letters to offending firms or individuals are to be avoided. Either they arouse resentment or they are merely shrugged off. In either case they are ineffective. Following this principle, I have spared the following miscreants my stinging rebuke:

1. The radio station WQXR in its pre-public radio days for permitting advertising in which excited voices overpraise new Broadway plays in the language of cliché (“And New York magazine raves . . .”).

2. Televison sportscasters for their atrocious grammar (“The coach shoved Henry and I out of the locker room after the game . . .”).

3. Fund-raisers and poll takers for phoning me at dinnertime (“This will only take a minute . . .”).

One weakness in my principles is that if they are applied uniformly, praise will occasionally arrive too late to please the recipient. What I want to hear – not tomorrow but immediately – is praise for my violin playing from the people who have just heard my performance in a string quartet. They are silent. My pride in my cooking ability could use a little reinforcement from the diners at the table, but they are silent as well.

Yet I labor on hopefully both as a violinist and as a cook. When praise cannot bolster self-esteem, vanity must suffice unassisted.