There is a peculiar kind of endurance involved in making a comparable revision, refreshing the thanks log, and discovering that you were not thanked, while someone else was. Or in half-seriously contemplating an experiment: correlating thanks received with thanks given, revisions per day, venue (FAC, GAN, talk pages), and perhaps even time of day – only to realise that the data would explain nothing at all.

Twice, I felt faintly ridiculous for explicitly seeking a thank-button click: once after being nudged by an automated suggestion at FAC, and again when I briefly announced on my user page that I genuinely value being thanked. I still do. The embarrassment, however, lingers longer than the declaration.

I did not initially find the button particularly necessary. Only later did I realise that it, like barnstars and other small tokens, can become one of the quiet motivators for staying and continuing to contribute. But reader, please take note. As many have said – and as any sensible guide will remind you – the button is entirely optional. The work is what ultimately matters.

The button, as experience has taught me, is governed not solely by merit but by perception, preference, and timing. It resembles choosing a stock without knowledge of its future performance: patterns seem to emerge, correlations tempt interpretation, yet none reliably predicts the outcome. Searching for logic in every notification – or its absence – can become an exercise in futility.

If you are reading this, please do not mistake this for a demand. Nothing here is transactional. I do not request or require thanks, though I would be disingenuous to say I never expect them and pretend that contributing is only about helping, writing, and learning. There is, tucked somewhere between altruism and vanity, a quiet hope that one small blue notification might appear.

So the pursuit continues – not of stars, not of status, but of something far more modest.