What Is Minnesota Nice? The Truth This TIme

If you Google the phrase “Minnesota Nice,” you might get confusing results. Some might tell you it comes from the fact that people in Minnesota are just so gosh-darned nice. But that’s the make-believe Disney version.

The truth is that Minnesota Nice is the razor blade in the hot dish, the rock in the snowball, or the pinhole leak in your lutefisk Tupperware.

Yes, we Minnesotans can be kind – kind of mean, that is.

I say that, but then I’m afraid I probably offended some people, so let me say something nice. Having grown up in rural Minnesota, I can tell you people will go out of their way to help you. Need a push out of the snowbank? Yup, a Minnesotan is there for you. But the assistance comes at a cost, a little wisp of judgement, something like:

“Were you trying to get your front end stuck in the snow like that?”

The implication being that you’re a big dummy who doesn’t know how to drive, and accidents never happen to moral, upright citizens.

Another example: let’s say it’s a work potluck. Should you bring a dish from South of the Border? No, because any recipe from further south than Iowa is going to be too spicy for Minnesotans.

But let’s say you go for it. Olé!

(Side note: Speaking of olé, during my college years at St. Cloud State, I worked for a time at a Taco John’s. Taco John’s is still popular for its Potato Olés, pronounced “o-lay!” like you’d hear from spectators at a bullfight in Spain. But Minnesotans pronounce it “o-lee” like a Norwegian fella at a meat raffle Up North.)

Back to the work potluck example: One of your coworkers will try your exotic dish, and, disappointed at the vibrant flavor and tremendous care you took in spicing it up, will smile weakly and say,

“Well, that’s sort of different.”

See, in Minnesotan, Different is not good. Sameness is good. Deviations from the norm represent big flashing red dangers. That attitude probably stems from the lessons learned the hard way by our ancestors, who trudged through mighty blizzards in bitter cold to find food and shelter.

And the winters were even worse.

Minnesota Nice is “nice” only in the sense that it avoids direct confrontation. We want to get our verbal jabs in at other people without the risk of inciting them to actual, physical violence. Minnesotans – at least those of the Scandinavian variety – tend to hide their aggression behind politeness. (We also are hug-averse.)

But, oh boy, as soon as you leave the room, there will be gossip and judgement enough to burn your ears for a month. Why? Because it’s easier to complain than it is to talk through a problem with someone.

And let’s take it the other way: compliments. If a Minnesotan is really impressed by something – could be a dinner, could be a paint job – you might hear something like,

“That’s not too bad.”

That level of understatement can mask a boiling excitement that holds the explosive force of a parade with fireworks, but you’d never know it, because we’re a humble people, and we want to keep you humble too.

But now in Austin, Minnesota, we live in a diverse community. Not everyone speaks Minnesotan. While we might find it more comfortable to hide our true feelings behind a veneer of politeness, we don’t do anyone any favors by not being honest and kind.

The same holds true in our local business community.

How many times have you seen a Facebook post or Google review from a customer upset at some perceived lapse of service at a store or restaurant, and instead of bringing it to a manager’s attention, the poster brings it to everyone in the world’s attention?

(Pro tip: Overreaction online is acceptable in Minnesota Nice, as long as you put a smiley emoji on it. )

The homework for us it to learn to how to offer constructive criticism when merited or grace for others’ shortcomings.

Maybe we all can be a little less Minnesota Nice and a little more Nice Nice.