Tyler Cameron, the former Bachelorette heartthrob turned generic internet nice guy, recently went on a podcast and said something that shouldn't be controversial but somehow is: people are rude now. He talked about how nobody looks up from their phones, how service workers get treated like furniture, how basic courtesy has become a radical act. And the internet, predictably, split into two camps: those nodding in exhausted agreement and those calling him a privileged whiner who should shut up about manners while the world burns.
Here's the thing. He's right, and the fact that we're even debating this proves his point.
Cameron didn't say anything revolutionary. He said please and thank you matter. He said looking someone in the eye when they hand you a coffee isn't optional. He said we've all become background characters in each other's lives, scrolling through our own personal movies while the person bagging our groceries exists as a blur. This is not deep. This is kindergarten stuff repackaged for a podcast generation that has forgotten how to be a person in a room with other people.
But watch the reaction. Half of Twitter/X called him a snowflake. Half called him performative. Almost nobody said, "Yeah, I've been an asshole lately and I should fix that." Because admitting you're part of the problem requires something we've lost: self-awareness without defensiveness.
Let's be honest about what's happening. We've spent a decade optimizing for convenience and efficiency. Self-checkout. Curbside pickup. Food delivery apps where you never see the human who made your food. Every interaction has been stripped of friction, and friction was where manners lived. You don't have to say thank you to a kiosk. You don't have to acknowledge the person who assembled your burrito bowl if they leave it on a shelf and you grab it without eye contact. We built a world that doesn't require courtesy, and then we're shocked that courtesy is disappearing.
And it's not just strangers. Families eat dinner with phones propped against water glasses. Friends cancel plans via text with zero guilt. We've outsourced empathy to emojis and call it connection. Cameron pointed at this and said, "Hey, maybe this is bad," and we treated it like he'd suggested we all wear powdered wigs and write thank-you notes in cursive.
The deeper issue is that rudeness has become a status signal. Being too busy to be kind means you're important. Being blunt means you're authentic. Being patient with a slow cashier means you're a sucker who doesn't value your own time. We've flipped the script so thoroughly that basic decency looks like weakness, and the people defending it get mocked as nostalgic saps who want to return to some mythical 1950s where everyone smiled through their teeth.
But here's what the cynics miss. Manners aren't about politeness theater. They're about acknowledging that other people are real. That the barista has a backstory. That the delivery driver has a family. That the person holding the door isn't your servant but your equal in the brief moment you share a doorway. When we stop doing that, we don't just become rude. We become lonely. We become a country of isolated individuals who mistake efficiency for connection and wonder why we feel empty.
Tyler Cameron isn't a prophet. He's a guy with a platform who said something obvious. But the fact that it landed like a grenade tells you everything about where we are.
We can keep arguing about whether he's qualified to talk about manners, or we can take the two seconds to look the next person in the eye and say thank you. One of those options costs nothing. The other costs us our humanity. Seems like an easy choice.