Reader Response: Hell Is Other People, Vol. 6, Issue 34

Last week's column on the bad behavior of others elicited quite a few responses:

Dear Etiquetteer:

You are going to get a slew of suggestions concerning cell phones. I'm generally quite tolerant, but there are indeed a few things that irritate me in other people's behavior. To wit:

  • Talking at great length on a cell phone at a dinner table. If you are dining with someone, he or she should be the focus of your attention. A caller can always be asked to call again later.
  • Loud, foul language in public. I can swear like a sailor (actually was one once), but I believe that it should be done with friends or family and adjusted for their amount of tolerance. Swearing loudly is never proper, however.
  • Graffiti: It isn't art, it's vandalism. Case closed. The person who invented the spray paint can should be damned for all eternity.

Dear Incensed:

Etiquetteer can certainly agree with you about cell phone usage at the dinner table, but just can’t condemn the inventor of spray paint to that Suburb South of Heaven. Spray paint has many useful applications.

Profanity is never Perfectly Proper*, but of course groups of Equally Profane People may permit each other to swear colorfully when together. Etiquetteer’s point of view, however, is rapidly losing ground as profanity permeates more and more of the mainstream media and daily speech. One has only to look at the ostentatious profanity of the Weekly Dig and the way alternate spellings of dirty words (such as "biatch" or "shiat") have become commonplace. Liam Kyle Sullivan’s popular character Kelly, the Belle of YouTube, has indoctrinated millions of people into hollering "Betch!" So Etiquetteer must ask the question: is a dirty word still dirty when you change its spelling and/or prounuciation but not its meaning?

Dear Etiquetteer:

While I, along with a jazillion others, have overheard some pretty amazing cell phone conversations, one stands out. I was in line at a liquor store and the woman in front of me was having a REALLY HEATED CONVERSATION -- no, make that a flat out TIRADE -- on her cell phone while the cashier was too-patiently ringing up her purchases. Not only did the entire store got to hear about her wretched breakup with her girlfriend, we also learned why in quite graphic and expletive detail. Let's just say it had to do with sex. This woman was so distraught that I don't think she even knew she was in the store purchasing something. The cashier tried to get her attention when it came time to pay but it took a number of tries before the distraught customer threw her credit card at the cashier. When this customer finally left, all of us in the store were aghast, exhausted, and relieved to see this woman go. Really, we were all momentarily speechless!

Dear Etiquetteer:

A few years ago, I was at a neighborhood block party, where I actually got to chat with many people I had previously just waved at when travelling down our street. Introducing myself to one older gentleman, I told him which house I lived in, and that my husband and I bought it from a relative. He immediately asked, "So, d'you have kids?"

I replied, "No, we do have a bunny rabbit, though, and I have nieces and nephews." To which he barked, obviously thinking he was 'being funny,' "No kids? What's wrong with you?"

Now, he is of an older generation; one would have expected better manners. I decided, though, instead of replying with a "snappy comeback," and feeling resentful, I would just tell the unvarnished truth. I explained briefly what was "responsible" for our lack of children: childhood cancer.

He was completely mortified, and apologized several times, and I know he felt bad. But why do people feel entitled to comment on a person's deeply personal issues, like child-bearing? Even in jest? For someone else, it could have been a deeply upsetting moment.

Dear Forthright:

What a deeply courageous thing to do. The best response to such intrusive questions is usually a change of subject or icy silence. Etiquetteer hopes that your puncturing of this old man’

s rude, artificial bonhomie taught him not to behave that way again.

* If you listen very carefully, you can hear That Mr. Dimmick Who Thinks He Knows So Much crying "Ouch!" as Etiquetteer jabs him with his rapier.

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Current Events, Vol. 6, Issue 17

Celebrities only seem to get into the news when they are behaving badly. Two recent mini-dramas have captured Etiquetteer’s attention.

You will be surprised – very surprised, Etiquetteer suspects – to find Etiquetteer defending Karl Rove about anything. But after the White House Correspondents Dinner last week, Etiquetteer must Wag an Admonitory Digit at Sheryl Crow and her dinner companion Laurie David for initiating a nasty little contretemps about global warming. Crow and David, whose self-serving account of the incident appears on Arianna Huffington’s blog, certainly make themselves out to be the Calm Crusaders. From ingenuous comments like "How excited were we to have our first opportunity ever to talk directly to the Bush Administration about global warming" to glossy acccounts of their own part in the barney ("We felt compelled to remind him that the research is done and the results are in"), they present themselves as Earnest Little Girls nicely asking the Big Man about a Bad Decision. Etiquetteer finds abhorrent their idea that Sheryl Crow’s beauty alone should compel Rove to speak with them ("How hardened and removed from reality must a person be to refuse to be touched by Sheryl Crow?"). Feminists everywhere should be offended with this 19th century notion.

If they really wanted to have a meaningful dialogue about climate change with Rove, they would have used this opportunity to schedule an appointment. Indeed, courtiers of Louis XIV were always advised not to surrender petitions to him during particular audiences because the Sun King was likely to lose them while changing clothes. Instead, it just looks like they wanted to get in the paper themselves.

Not that Rove comes out smelling like a rose. Eyewitnesses indicate that he gave as good as he got, whereas a change of topic or a cold "This is not the time or place to discuss it" would have been Perfectly Proper. The truth, as is so frequently the case, is someplace in the middle.

Moving right along, we find that actress Kim Basinger has released to the press an abusive voicemail message from her ex-husband, Alec Baldwin, to their daughter Ireland. While hardly excusing Baldwin’s vicious telephone tantrum – did he miss that day in anger management class? – Etiquetteer is outraged that La Basinger and her attorneys leaked the voicemail to the press. Can you think of anything that would be more embarrassing to eleven-year-old Ireland? All this dirty laundry could have been kept right where it belonged – in the family – without the vengefulness of a celebrity divorcée selfishly shaming the father of her child, and her child as well.

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Invitations and Condolences, Vol. 6, Issue 10


INVITATIONS and CONDOLENCES

Vol. 6, Issue 10, March 11, 2007

 

Dear Etiquetteer:

Please tell me whether I was right in a dispute about how an invitation was to be worded. At a school where I’m involved a new dining hall was to be dedicated at a catered dinner for major donors. The invitation used the phrase "the honour of your presence." I saidno, that the term should be "the pleasure of your company." "The honour of your presence" is only for marriages held in a house of worship, isn’t that so? Using that phrase for a dinner to dedicate a dining hall was ludicrous to me. Happily the school staff listened to me and changed the invitation in time. But if I’m not correct I’ll take you to dinner.

Dear Honored Guest:

You are correct, but Etiquetteer has to tell you what a great deal of fun it’s been researching "chapter and verse" on this. While no one’s ever specifically said "‘the honour of your presence’ may only be used on wedding invitations for church weddings," examples for invitations of charity balls and other such functions (with which Etiquetteer would group invitations to university dining hall dedications) always use the form "the pleasure of your company." And from that Etiquetteer infers that you are correct.

While checking up on this issue Etiquetteer has been vastly entertained reading about relics of bygone days like train cards for country weddings (when a private train is engaged for guests), cards of admittance to church weddings (for weddings when the general public is not allowed into the church), and invitations to the weddings of young widows issued by her parents.

Dear Etiquetteer:

I received an e-mail, sprayed to a number of members of an informal group to which I belong, that someone we all knew had a death in his family. I've seen this person off and on for a few minutes or so at a time, here and there over the years as part of this group. Otherwise we never socialized. We’ve never been to each other’s homes. I've always enjoyed his company whenever our paths have crossed. To contact him, all I have is one of his e-mail addresses.

I was raised that when one heard of a death one dropped everything, made food if possible, and immediately went to the house of the bereaved to offer any and all assistance: cook, make beds for arriving family, mow the lawn, whatever they asked. If the bereaved were more distant one called them on the phone but, under all circumstances, send them a contemporaneous, handwritten notice of condolence.

This ran into an iceberg a number of years ago when, after having sent my handwritten note of condolence, I overheard at the wake that the family thought I was cheap not to have purchased a sympathy card.

Further, although my ancestors on my father’s side are Protestant, my mother’s side is devout Catholic, and I have been often faulted for not bringing a Mass card to the wake.

To further compound my confusion, in this case, the only way I have to communicate is this person’s e-mail address, and I don't even know if that is his main e-mail address. I've e-mailed a mutual friend asking if he could provide a street address and any particulars as to the arrangements since I feel that condolences by e-mail are far below par and that the more proper course is to send a sympathy card with a personal note of condolence.

In this new strange world, what is the proper etiquette? A sudden death, especially of anyone other than the elderly is a horrid, emotionally wrenching situation whatever the relationship between the survivor and the deceased. I feel that an e-mail is so de minimis in the face of such heartbreaking circumstances. Can Etiquetteer help?

Dear Condoling:

First of all, Etiquetteer has to say that a bereaved person who is going to criticize the way a condolence is sent does not deserve to be condoled. Etiquetteer can only identify these people as Trash Pure and Simple if they can’t realize that correspondence on one’s own stationery is much more meaningful and intimate than on some pre-printed sympathy card (especially the kind with some treacly poem inside). Etiquetteer bets they didn’t even bother to write you back the mandatory Note of Thanks . . .

Second, if you’re not a practicing Catholic yourself, Etiquetteer sees no reason for you to send a Mass to the bereaved, even if they themselves are practicing Catholics.

As your acquaintance with the bereaved is slight, in spite of its long standing, Etiquetteer doesn’t think it necessary for you to provide food or attend the funeral, as you already well know. Tracking down the street address, through mutual friends, or even an on-line directory, really is the best plan of action to send a Perfectly Proper Condolence Note. If you know the name of the deceased, check for the death announcements in the relevant newpaper (again, frequently on-line), and the church or funeral home might be able to assist you. Should all these avenues still leave you without the information you need, Etiquetteer would allow you to e-mail your acquaintance with your condolences and a request for his street address (without of course, implying that you want it handy for the next time he has a death in the family).

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Other People’s Behavior: Two Different Situations, Vol. 4, Issue 12

Dear Etiquetteer: I, like you, am someone who has a public website. On a number of occasions, people have written to me about my site, and I have responded with what you call a Lovely Note. However, this has occasionally been seen by the reader as in invitation to become Best Friends Forever, and I always reply to their e-mails, because I think it's horribly rude to go without responding.How do I word my replies to these lovely but misguided folks who think that, due to the fact that I write about my life on-line, they are candidates for my new buddy? Do I give them the cold shoulder (seems rude)? Write shorter e-mails with little to no actual content (a "wingnut form e-mail," if you will), or be direct? I'm unsure as to what is Perfectly Proper. Dear Webbed: Just like celebrities, "celwebrities" also have their, ahem, devoted fans. That sounds so much more polite than "lunatic fringe," don’t you think? As with most human relationships, balance must be used, in your case to express gratitude for interest in your website while also maintaining your privacy. And this balance is nowhere better expressed than in Max Ehrmann’s famous poem "Desiderata" Not only must one " . . . listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant, they too have their stories," but even more important one must "Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection." You see how difficult this is, ‘cause let Etiquetteer tell you, give the dull and ignorant an inch and they’ll take 45 minutes. Using these guidelines, Etiquetteer suggests brief, pleasant, but neutral e-mail responses with only a minimum of specific content, such as:
  • "Thank you! It’s been interesting to hear from so many people about [Insert Topic at Hand Here]."
  • "Thank you for those comments. A different point of view!"
  • "Your support is really appreciated. Thanks for writing."

Etiquetteer encourages you to remember that there is a difference between a cold shoulder and appropriate reserve. While tempted by guilt or pity to respond more effusively, remember that only courtesy is required. Best of luck as you continue your e-fan-mail.

Dear Etiquetteer: So many times I want to write you with the thousands of scenarios that run through my head. This time I really need some help. It seems that nearly every time my husband and I go out with a group of people he picks up the check, bar tab, whatever the bill may be. This drives me crazy! I spoke to him about this and he agrees that I'm correct but does not know what to do. I think he is uncomfortable discussing the bill so he just avoids the situation by paying for it! It's very sweet and if we had all the money in the world I would not mind. Since that's not the case, what are some tools we could use to avoid the embarrassing "bill moment?" I hate to sound so frugal but it’s a habit that needs to be broken. Dear Mrs. Check Grabber: The stereotype of "the American who pays" went the way of café society and transatlantic crossings (as opposed to cruises), but even if your husband were to bring it back, he’d need fabulous wealth or possibly ill-gotten gains to do it. Etiquetteer really encourages neither approach.The danger of always paying the check is that one day, perhaps, that will be the only reason your friends want you there. Etiquetteer knows that your husband has more interesting qualities than this. We must now devise a way to put them into the foreground, which means eliminating his icky feelings about settling the check.First, your husband needs to give others at the table the chance to pick up the check first. Even if he has to sit on his hands (or if you have to sit on them) Hubby should restrain his Hospitable Impulse and let someone else take the initiative. (And Etiquetteer thinks that, after all his largesse, some of these friends ought to be taking him out.) It is not bad for people to pay their own bills when dining together in a restaurant. Hubby must understand this.Now if this doesn’t work and Hubby actually has the check in hand, you may need to take it from him deftly and either pass it to someone else ("Hubert darling, since you’re the accountant in the group and you ordered the extra appetizer, would you please go over the bill?") or figure out yourself what you and your husband owe (including tax and tip), add it to the check, and pass it to the person next to you who is furthest from your husband. Of course, this also assumes you’re sitting next to him, which is not Perfectly Proper when dining away from one’s home . . . let’s hope you’re sitting not-too-far away.

Find yourself at a manners crossroads and don't know where to go? Ask Etiquetteer at query@etiquetteer.com!

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