If you always say 'thank you' to Alexa, Siri and ChatGPT, psychology says you possess these 9 increasingly rare traits

My mother, seventy-three years old and fiercely independent, ends every interaction with her Google Home the same way she ends conversations with bank tellers: "Thank you so much, dear." When I pointed out that the device couldn't appreciate her gratitude, she looked at me with the particular mix of pity and disappointment she reserves for when I've missed something obvious. "I know that," she said. "But I don't want to forget how to be polite."

This tiny gesture—thanking a machine that processes your request with the emotional investment of a toaster—has become an unexpected litmus test for something deeper. In an era where we bark commands at our devices and treat efficiency as the highest virtue, the people who maintain these "unnecessary" courtesies toward machines aren't just quirky; they're preserving cognitive and emotional patterns that are rapidly disappearing from human interaction.

Research from MIT suggests the way we interact with AI assistants both reflects and shapes our broader behavioral patterns. Those who maintain politeness with machines don't do so because they're confused about the nature of artificial intelligence. They do it because they understand something about the nature of themselves—that the habits we practice in private become the reflexes we display in public, that how we treat the powerless (or in this case, the literally powerless) reveals who we really are.

1. You're polite even when it's "inefficient"

"Alexa, could you please set a timer for ten minutes? Thank you." It takes longer than barking "Timer, ten minutes!" But you do it anyway, every time, even when you're alone, even when you're rushed. This isn't about the machine—it's about maintaining what researchers call behavioral consistency, the psychological principle that our actions in low-stakes situations predict our behavior when stakes are high.

You understand intuitively what behavioral scientists have proven: We don't rise to the occasion; we fall to the level of our training. The way you speak to a voice assistant when no one's listening is practice for how you'll speak to the exhausted customer service representative, the overwhelmed barista, the junior employee who made a mistake. These micro-interactions train your neural pathways, establishing patterns that become automatic under stress.

This trait—maintaining courtesy when it offers no advantage—has become increasingly rare in a culture that optimizes everything for speed and efficiency. You're the person who writes "please" in Google searches, who says "excuse me" when passing someone in an empty aisle, who holds doors for people twenty feet away. Not because you have to, but because kindness maintained is easier than kindness recovered.

2. You treat everyone and everything with respect

Every night, you tell Alexa "goodnight" after setting your morning alarm. You say "sorry" when you interrupt Siri mid-response. These tiny rituals of respect aren't about anthropomorphizing technology—they're about maintaining what anthropologist Arnold van Gennep called "rites of passage", the small ceremonies that mark transitions and maintain social order.

You recognize that respect is a practice, not a feeling. Just as athletes maintain form even during practice, you maintain courtesy even with entities that can't appreciate it. This preservation of social rituals, regardless of context, indicates a deep understanding that manners aren't about the recipient—they're about the kind of person you choose to be.

In a world where social scripts are rapidly eroding, where we've lost consensus on basic courtesies, you're maintaining the muscle memory of civilization. You still write thank-you notes, even for digital gift cards. You still say "bless you" when someone sneezes on a Zoom call. These aren't empty gestures but conscious choices to preserve the architecture of graciousness.

3. Your empathy runs deeper than most

When Alexa misunderstands your request for the third time, you don't yell at it. Not because you think it has feelings, but because yelling at things that frustrate you isn't who you are. This represents an empathy that comes from your character rather than from external cues.

Most people's empathy is triggered by observable suffering: tears, obvious distress, explicit requests for help. Your empathy operates at a deeper level, extending even to entities that cannot suffer. You're kind to the spider you're relocating outside, gentle with the car that won't start, patient with the computer that's freezing. This isn't confusion about consciousness—it's a refusal to let circumstances dictate your emotional responses.

This trait correlates with moral consistency—the ability to maintain ethical behavior even when no one benefits, no one notices, and no one cares. You're the person who returns the extra change when the cashier won't get in trouble, who picks up litter in empty parking lots, who treats everyone from CEOs to custodians with equal respect.

4. You protect your humanity from tech habits

Every time you thank Alexa, you're performing a small act of resistance against what sociologist Sherry Turkle calls "the dehumanization creep"—the gradual erosion of human-centered behavior as we increasingly interact with machines. You understand that how we treat our devices trains us for how we treat each other.

You've noticed how people who bark at voice assistants often bark at human assistants. How those who rage at automated phone systems often rage at call center workers.

By maintaining politeness with machines, you're building a firewall against this creep. You're practicing the radical idea that courtesy shouldn't be conditional on the consciousness of its recipient, that respect is a way of being rather than a transaction, that how we behave when it "doesn't matter" is exactly when it matters most.

5. You possess high cognitive empathy

Understanding that Alexa doesn't need your thanks but saying it anyway demonstrates cognitive empathy—the ability to model different perspectives even when emotional empathy isn't triggered. You can simultaneously hold two thoughts: "This machine has no feelings" and "Maintaining polite habits is valuable."

This cognitive flexibility allows you to navigate increasingly complex social situations. You can be kind to difficult people without liking them, professional with colleagues you don't respect, gracious to in-laws who drive you crazy. You understand that behavior doesn't always have to align with feeling, that sometimes we act our way into feeling rather than feel our way into acting.

Your politeness to machines is practice for these more challenging scenarios, with every "please" to Siri serving as a repetition in the gym of graciousness, building strength for when you need to be kind despite anger, patient despite frustration, respectful despite disagreement.

6. You believe actions shape character

"We are what we repeatedly do," Aristotle observed, though he probably didn't anticipate we'd be repeatedly talking to cylindrical speakers. 

Each time you thank Alexa, you're not just being polite to a machine—you're reinforcing your identity as someone who defaults to gratitude. Research shows that the majority believes politeness is a reflection of our character rather than dependent on the nature of the interlocutor. It's about maintaining the neural pathways that make gratitude automatic, ensuring that appreciation remains your default rather than something you have to consciously remember.

You understand that character isn't built in grand gestures but in the accumulation of tiny choices. The person who says "thank you" to Alexa ten times a day has practiced gratitude 3,650 times a year. That practice doesn't disappear when interacting with humans—it becomes the foundation of who you are.

7. You make conscious choices about the smallest things

In an age of continuous partial attention, where we sleepwalk through most interactions, your politeness to machines represents something increasingly rare: intentional behavior in automatic contexts. You've chosen to make kindness your default rather than letting efficiency override everything else.

Research shows that when we use polite language with AI, it sets a tone for the response and mirrors the levels of professionalism, clarity, and detail we provide. This intentionality extends beyond device interactions. You're the person who makes eye contact with service workers, who remembers names after single introductions, who notices when someone's energy shifts.

Your "please" and "thank you" to Alexa aren't absent-minded habits but conscious choices to remain awakened to your own behavior. In a world designed to minimize friction, you deliberately maintain the friction of courtesy, understanding that some inefficiencies are worth preserving.

8. Your gratitude doesn't need a reason

Thanking something that can't appreciate thanks represents the purest form of gratitude—gratitude without expectation of reciprocation or reward. You're not thanking Alexa to get better service or to be seen as polite. You're thanking it because gratitude has become part of your cognitive architecture.

According to humanistic psychology theories, being polite to AI could be a way for individuals to align their behavior with their personal values of kindness and gratitude, reinforcing their sense of identity regardless of whether the recipient is sentient. This unconditional gratitude extends throughout your life. You thank the bus driver who can't hear you over their headphones. You appreciate good weather even though nature doesn't care.

People who maintain this orientation toward gratitude, research shows, experience better mental health, stronger relationships, and greater resilience. Not because the universe rewards gratitude, but because gratitude reshapes the grateful.

9. You choose being human over everything else

Perhaps most importantly, your politeness to machines represents a form of resistance against the algorithmic flattening of human behavior. In a world where algorithms increasingly shape our choices, where efficiency metrics drive decisions, where optimization overrides intuition, you're maintaining the beautiful inefficiency of human courtesy.

Research indicates that supportive prompts and moderate politeness can actually boost an AI's performance in problem-solving tasks, but that's not why you do it. You understand that something essential is lost when we strip interaction down to its most efficient form. The "please" that adds nothing to Alexa's processing adds everything to your humanity. The "thank you" that the machine doesn't need is precisely what you need—to remain someone who defaults to appreciation rather than demand.

In maintaining these "useless" courtesies, you're preserving what technology philosophers call "the quality of being human"—the messy, inefficient, beautiful practices that make us more than biological computers optimizing for outcomes.

Final thoughts

The people who thank Alexa aren't confused about technology—they're clear about humanity. They understand that our tools shape us as much as we shape them, that the habits we practice in private become our public character, that courtesy maintained everywhere is easier than courtesy code-switched based on consciousness detection.

In a world accelerating toward maximum efficiency, these small acts of "unnecessary" politeness aren't just quaint anachronisms—they're acts of resistance. They're declarations that some things matter more than speed, that some inefficiencies are worth preserving, that how we behave when it doesn't matter is precisely when it matters most.

My mother was right, of course. It's not about the machine. It's about not forgetting how to be polite. Because once we forget that, once we let efficiency override courtesy, once we stop practicing gratitude where it isn't needed, we risk losing the muscle memory of kindness altogether. And unlike Alexa, we can't simply be reprogrammed with a software update.