Compliments

By Wayne Elise

May 04, 2025

Insults I can handle, but compliments are like trying to catch a wadded up term paper. But fortunately, until recently, the only compliments I heard came from little old ladies at Ralph’s asking for help getting Fruit Rollups off the top shelf. “Good job stretch,” they’d say before ramming me with their shopping carts shouting, “Out of the way! I got to get to my pickle ball game!”

But lately compliments have been coming from a completely different set of people, and it’s a real problem.

It all started on a trip to Tokyo Disney. My bald spot colluded with touristic peer-pressure to induce desire for a souvenir of the haberdasheric variety. But life throws up roadblocks in the form of my wife Erika who controls the cash. She tightened her grip around her purse. “Absolutely not! It’s an impulse purchase. You’ll never wear it again.”

Inspired by the setting, I tried to talk like Flynn Rider from Tangled. “Look at all these happy people wearing Disney hats. You want us to be happy, don’t you?”

“What would make us happy is getting to the end of this trip without having to take more Yen out of the ATM.”

“Ah. True. But you leave me no choice. Here comes the smolder.” I tilted my head and raised my eyebrows just like Flynn Rider.

She looked unimpressed. If anything, suspicious.

“This is an off day for the smolder,” I said. “How about this. I still got that thousand Yen the sushi hostess gave us by mistake.”

She pondered with thumb on chin. “Hmmm. I suppose you could use that. But that’s not really our money to spend.”

“You gotta look at the big picture blondie. That sushi hostess was nothing but fun. I’m sure she would want us to have a good time.”

“Maybe. Okay. Fine. But make me a promise you won’t buy a bucket hat. I don’t want to have to pretend not to know you.”

“Deal!” We shook hands on it.

But first thing the lady at the shop did was put a bucket hat on my head. She held up a mirror and spoke in english. “Monster University bucket hat. Very nice.”

The hat was deep blue corduroy with the letters ‘M-U’ stitched on the front in a chunky style font with a monster-looking eye staring out. “It’s fun,” I said, “but it feels like one of those Disney movies nobody remembers.”

She bowed. “Very good hat. Good on you. So handsome.”

“Flattery… I adjusted the hat in the mirror trying to look Japanese, “is exactly what I like to hear. Ring it up!”

She half-bowed. “Sorry. Ring…it…up?”

“Kaimasu yo!” I declared. It was the only Japanese I knew besides, ‘Good morning’, which sounds just like the midwest state: “Ohio!” and then there’s, “Nigero! Gojira ga kuru zo!” which means, “Run! Godzilla is coming!”

“Hai.” She said, bowing again.

I put the money on the tray and had her cut the tag so I could wear it out.

Erika smirked when she saw me. “I knew it! You cheater!”

“Sorry. The lady was very persuasive.”

“Ha. They see you coming and raise their prices.”

“I’m appalled you think I’m such an easy mark.”

She counted on her fingers. “Let’s see, white, so white, so that counts double, obviously American… Yep. Easy target.”

“I’ll have you know, I’m four percent Swedish according to Ancestry dot com.“

She rolled her eyes.

“Anyway, it wasn’t the most expensive hat. The Aladdin hat with the magic carpet flying around the top was. I don’t know how they do that. It even had a Jasmine dangling a leg over the brim. Ooh la la. Wait. Why are you looking at me like that?”

She sharpened her nails with a file. “Oh. No reason.”

“Anyway. You don’t have to worry. I’m not going to go sneak off and exchange hats, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“You better not. Besides, that one looks good actually - for a bucket hat.”

“I know, right?”

You’ve probably seen Monsters University. It’s a Pixar-animated, buddy-comedy about a small, one-eyed monster named Mike and a big, shaggy monster named James. They enroll as new students at Monsters University where they learn scarier monster tactics, overcome differences and become best friends. People say it’s an underrated classic, but honestly I’m more of a Lion King fan. When Timon shakes his butt singing about eating grubs, and Pumbaa’s farts clear the Savannah after every meal, well… that touches something deep inside.

A week later, back home, nothing seemed different at first. Birds chirped. Moss grew. I had to let my pants out from all those fluffy Japanese Family Mart egg sandwiches I’d eaten on the trip. But when I went out in the world with the new hat something was off. It turned out there were a lot of undercover Monsters University fans!

First time, this became apparent, I was minding my own business, waiting at Target for someone to come unlock the cabinet so I could buy mouthwash, when this kid, maybe nineteen, comes up and says he loves my hat. I could only blink. He probably thought I was stupid, so he mimed it, pointing at me, pointing at his own non existent hat and then smiling. The message was clear. He wanted to rub scented oil into my scalp. I was flattered, but not sure how to respond so I ran away.

Then a pink haired girl at the park stopped me and said she liked my hat. “What’s your favorite character?” she asked. Startled, I staggered back and fell into a patch of blackberry bushes.

It went on like that for a while until I realized there were special forces at play. “This hat is like a magnet for people with blue hair,” I told a client over Zoom.

“Uh… okay,” he said, “but how is that supposed to help me get girls?”

“Can you fly to Japan?”

This may seem like a good problem to have but I was wracked with guilt. I was a fraud - not an authentic Monsters University fan. I had no choice but to subscribe to Disney Plus and rewatched the movie again. But it just made no sense. Why does Mike get off the bus carrying two luggage cases when the monsters don’t wear clothes? And if Sulley is such a natural at scaring people, why does he even need to go to university?

But regardless, there’s a certain type of person who loves the film. And they deserved more. They were going out of their way, mustering courage, expressing their identity, and what had it gotten them? Blank stares and mumbled thanks. Shame on me. RING RING “Bring out your dead!” Fine. Throw me in the cart. I’m mostly dead.

But then, one day I was touring one of those bootcamp gyms where people flip truck tires and curl engine blocks. I was just minding my own business, trying to covertly pick my nose in the corner, when this huge guy comes up and gets in my face. His giant biceps and gang tattoos clearly said a homicide was about to happen. But instead of murder he said, “I like your hat.”

This guy was a Monsters University fan? I laughed nervously. “Oh this thing on my head? I uh…“ My mind raced. He was going to kill me if I didn’t say something good. Monsters University might be the one thing holding him back from killing everyone!

And that’s when a good response finally came to me. “Thanks,” I said. “It’s my alma mater.” Bingo! I felt so clever.

But he didn’t laugh. He stepped closer, rubbed his goatee and asked the dreaded question,“Which monster is your favorite?”

I swallowed. Get this wrong and I’d be mush. I was about to say,‘Sully,’ going with the safe choice. But on second thought, surly this hulk wouldn’t respect the safe choice. I should pick Mike. Definitely Mike. “But on third thought, what’s the monster with four arms?” Oh no. Did I say that out loud?

“Terry!” he said. “That’s my favorite one too." He clapped me on the back bro-style. “You’re alright.”

I laughed nervously. “Thanks. Yeah. Terry’s a great monster. It must be nice to have four arms.”

And so I made a friend. Turns out he’s not a murderer but rather a nice guy who helps little old ladies get Fruit Rollups down from the top shelf.

This reminds me of what conversation is for. It’s relatively easy to sound smart or funny when responding to people. But magic happens when we invite conversation and interaction.