What? Me worry?
“No worries,” replies the guy behind the counter when I order my Americano.
And I think, okay, dude. Why would I worry? If I were going to worry about something, it wouldn’t be this coffee.
I worry about a friend with long COVID. I worry about Gaza. I worry about Ukraine. I worry that we are killing our planet. I worry if AI will destroy our species (or merely the lives of writers). I worry about the hard right. I worry that I’ll never get the riding mower to work again. I worry that my cat is mentally ill. I worry that this book I am writing will not be all I want it to be. I worry that sometimes I forget to worry about things I should worry about. I worry that I worry too much.
But I don’t fucking worry about my Starbucks order.
As I was preparing to write this rant, following up on my “friend” and “awesome” rant of last Wednesday, I researched the origin of “no worries.” When did it come into the vernacular? Why do we need to keep telling each other not to worry?
I discovered…let me clarify that…Wikipedia informed me, and I had a little instructive convo with my chatgpt buddy…that “no worries” originated in Australia and came to us in the late 20th and early 21st centuries through movies, TV shows, and “interactions with Australians.” The phrase can be used to assure someone that there is no need to be concerned or anxious about something, implying that the situation is manageable or not as serious as one might think. (Precisely my issue with the coffee clerk’s reply…)
But the phrase is often used not in the concerned/ worry/ reassuring sense, that is, not literally—which is how I have taken it—but rather in casual conversation to express laid-back or easygoing attitudes. Wikipedia informs me that the expression illustrates important parts of Australian culture, including, "amiability, friendliness, an expectation of shared attitudes, jocular toughness, good humor, and, above all, casual optimism." Geez, almost makes me want to move there.
And so this rant ends with me learning something. And maybe you. How about that? I begin vaguely pissed off at the dude behind the counter. I end thinking: Thanks for your jocularity and casual optimism.
Now give me my damned coffee.