I think Operation Nice is a great thing. It may seem a little silly at first, but I am (to a fault) nice. My first instinct is to make nice. If proven wrong, my next instinct is to become a Valkyrie and start lopping off heads. The first response is classic older child sysdrome. The second? Classic viking warrior response. You want me on your side in a bloody battle. I'll be the girl, on the hill, in a sunbeam, with plaited hair gleaming, holding a head by the hair in one hand and a battle axe in the other, roaring something that sounds like "Yaarrrrgghhh" with the soundtrack to The Highlander series blaring behind me (I am a 3rd generation American-Scot so I am allowed access to all Highlander references both film and tv without question. It is part of the sacred code of Scots, but I have said too much). I also, apparently, should have made nice with the D&D crowd in high school because I am a giant dork.
I always assume the best about people first. I have been proven time and time again that this is probably not the best assumption to make, BUT I continue to do it because I don't want to be one of those bitter jaded old ladies who lives with 37 cats and no human companionship. Glass half full. Pollyanna. Sun'll come out tomorrow.
I am not naive. I am nice because it works. The whole more flies with honey thing. I embrace the fact that I am innately selfish and hedonistic but I choose to be really nice to those around me. I don't think those things are at odds. I try to believe that people are, for the mostpart, good. Living with a man of the cloth will do that to you. He sees some of the worst behaved people on the planet and yet seems to still roll with it, a generally nice guy. I am still a noncommittal nontheist (does it get any more vague than that?), but it does help to be around someone who holds ideals. Keeps me in check.
I will do just about anything to be nice to folks. I let people merge on the highway. I will let the person with fewer groceries go ahead of me. I hold doors. I once accidently cut someone off in the Dunkin Donuts parking lot and paid for their whole order at the drive-through window to make up for it. I offer up myself for surrogate services... Ok, that last one was a joke. (I am Barren Sharron, it would be a creepy empty offer).
Where I live, people are not nice. They are rough, gruff and a bit surly. They warm up, but they assume you are awful first. I work the opposite way. I bend over backwards with niceness and they think I have an ulterior motive. Which I don't. At all. Doe-eyed stare.
Where do I draw the line? I hate avoidable drama. GADS I hate drama. I had more drama dropped on me before the age of 22 than most people have in their entire lives. Stuff that makes heads spin. Drama dropped on me turns me in to the not-so-nice throat-punching viking-scot.