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It's the thought that counts. So, while society has changed, the need for thoughtfulness, courtesy and good manners has not. What is the etiquette for internet use, emails and mobile phone calls? How does one handle the delicate politics of flat-sharing? What are the rules for meeting through a dating agency? Mind Your Manners provides effective answers to these and many more dilemmas of modern decorum. Covering all situations - weddings, work, throwing a party, visits to a restaurant or theatre, driving - Robert O'Byrne gives witty and urbane advice on how best to behave with style in the twenty-first century. Here are practical tips for getting though Christmas with a smile on your face; being a good host ( how do you introduce Susan self-Effacing to Aileen Assured?); and dealing with a funeral (not a good time to network). Combing humorous but indispensable advice with hilarious cartoons from Merrily Harper, knowing correct conduct has never been easier.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2011
A Guide to Good Behaviour
Robert O’Byrne
To Kathy with thanks, naturally
Title Page
Dedication
INTRODUCTION
Modern Manners: The Twelve Basic Rules
1. BEING A GOOD GUEST
Invitations
How to Win a Reputation for Being a Good Guest
Other Useful Points for Guests
Talk Is Cheap (But It Can Cost You Dear)
2. BEING A GOOK HOST
Throwing a Party
The Drinks Party
The Dinner Party
Thursday Night Kitchen Suppers, Weekend Lunches and All Other Casual Get-Togethers
Dance Music for Parties
Work-Related Entertaining
3. STAYING OVER
A Weekend with Friends
House Borrowing
Advice to Hosts
Holiday Guests
4. FORMAL SOCIAL OCCASIONS
Invitations
Weddings
Divorce
Funerals
School Reunions
Christmas
5. SOCIALIZING OUTSIDE THE HOME
Punctuality
Restaurants
Pub Etiquette
6. PRESENTS
What’s a Good Gift?
The Basics
Classic Presents
Four Special Present Ideas
Other Gifts
Presents For …
7. SPECIAL INTEREST GROUPS
Children
Teenagers
Posh People
Celebrities
8. THE WORKPLACE
Life in the Workplace
Fellow Workers
Working with People Outside the Office
The Boss
When Work Doesn’t Work
9. MODERN COMMUNICATION
Letters
Fax
Telephone
10. FLAT LIVING: HOW SURVIVE OTHER PEOPLE
Apartment Complexes
Tenants and Landlords
Flat-Sharing
11. DIVERSE SOCIAL INTERACTION
Driving Manners
Travel Manners
The Outdoor Life
Pavement Peeve
Shops
Cinemas, Theatres, Concert Halls
The Gym
12. ROMANTIC LIFE
Prelude: On Being Single
Meeting Someone for the First Time
First Dates
Post-First Date
The Delicate Art of Seduction
Hints for a Happy Courtship
How to Make a Relationship Last
Romantic Life and Friends
One-Night Stands
How to End Well
Exes
How to Conduct an Illicit Affair
13. ADDICTIVE SUBSTANCES
Nicotine
Alcohol
Drugs
14. CLOTHES AND APPEARANCE
Grooming
Caring for Your Clothes
Footwear
Accessories
Getting Your Appearance Right
Still Struggling?
Dress Codes
Should You Comment on Other People’s Appearance?
POSTSCRIPT
Copyright
Basic good manners are so obvious that they shouldn’t need any elucidation. They shouldn’t, but all too often they do. Why is this the case? Why do we need to be told over and over again how to behave properly? Isn’t it obvious?
The only purpose of good manners is to demonstrate courtesy and consideration towards people and to put everyone at ease. Good manners mean you behave towards others in the same way you’d wish them to behave towards you. It’s a fundamental tenet of good manners never to be openly judgmental of another person’s speech or behaviour.
It’s easy to bemoan the lack of good manners today. What has actually been lost is the concept of consideration; manners are just the overt expression of this idea and a considerate individual will always have good manners. But it’s important not to become too stuffy on the subject. The spirit of our age inclines towards the casual; we should do the same. Accept that we live in informal times when many of the rules that used to govern social interaction – rules generally based on traditional etiquette – have been discarded.
This ought to mean that we’re all equally well behaved. Unfortunately, that’s rarely the case. Don’t allow this to affect you or your behaviour. Instead, recognize that politeness, courtesy and consideration are always going to be preferable to their opposites, no matter what the character of the age. Practise them and you’ll be known – and appreciated – for your good manners.
You’re seated next to a really delightful husband and wife at lunch and just before leaving the table they announce, ‘We must meet again; feel free to drop in on us next time you’re in the neighbourhood.’
No matter how sincere their tone, don’t take the offer seriously. Otherwise you’ll turn up on their doorstep and be met with bafflement. On the spur of a particularly social – and often alcohol-enhanced – moment, we all invite people to our homes. These open invitations are lightly issued and, while much appreciated, they’re better dismissed just as lightly. The only true invitation is one that comes attached to a specific date, time and place. Anything else is a pleasantry, implying a compliment to the charm of your company.
Sometimes open invitations are issued as though trapped on a loop-tape. Every time the two of you meet, the same person repeats the same line: ‘You have to come round for brunch/lunch/dinner/tea/recreational sex.’ Unless the offer’s much more precise (‘Fancy an hour between the sheets next Tuesday afternoon in an apartment that I’ve rented for the purpose?’), consider it flattering but worthless. If the person in question really wants to entertain you, he/she will make an effort to do so with a solid invitation.
How to behave if you took a casual offer to heart and have now arrived at someone’s home? Expect to be unexpected. Few of us today entertain without plenty of advance notice and the well-groomed man you met at that party could now be wearing a grimy vest and slippers. Whatever food and drink is given to you will probably be meagre and prefaced with the apology, ‘Sorry, but had we known you were going to drop by …’.
While we’re all afflicted by moments of memory-loss, some of us have discovered a convenient way of making sure this doesn’t affect our social lives: it’s called a diary.
You still forgot to go to a party? Telephone your erstwhile hosts as soon as you remember the invitation and be profuse with your apologies. Only do so if this was a genuine case of forgetfulness. It’s a dangerous practice to use poor memory as an excuse when, in fact, you opted for a better offer, or just decided to stay at home and watch television that night.
Gregarious guests are faced with this dilemma sooner or later. In the typical scenario, you’ve just accepted an invitation – nothing particularly exciting, just a kitchen supper with a couple of old pals from college but it’ll do because there was nothing else planned for Friday night. Then your mobile phone rings with the offer of something really special. For years, you’ve been waiting for the opportunity to be asked to a major film première, a small dinner with Jude Law or even the chance to meet someone you’ve been secretly lusting after (probably also Jude Law). Now that opportunity comes along and you have to turn it down. That really is the only thing you’re allowed to do.
Understandably, you’ll be tempted to abandon your original commitment for the sake of the better offer. Particularly if one host is unknown to the other, you’ll feel confident that the reason for your change of plan can remain forever a secret. No one will ever need to know the truth, you think to yourself, while mulling over various possible explanations you could offer for a sudden inability to attend the old college pals’ kitchen supper.
But the well-mannered guest is a loyal guest. Resist the temptation to lie because dishonesty invariably proves a bad policy. Imagine how you’d feel were roles reversed and you were placed in the position of a disappointed host. All friendship is based on trust; sooner or later your tendency to opt for the better offer will be discovered and you’ll be discredited. Once you’ve accepted an invitation, nothing short of serious illness ought to stop you honouring that commitment. And try to derive consolation from the thought that no matter how great the other occasion promises to be, it’ll now suffer from one fatal drawback – your absence.
What to do if you went ahead, cancelled the old college pals and accepted dinner with Jude Law? Your double-dealing ways have now been discovered and the pals are seriously offended – as is their right? No further dissembling please. Confess the error of your ways at once, humbly beg everyone’s pardon and give assurances that you’ll never, ever behave in the same way again. Don’t even think about criticizing the event you did attend. (‘Actually, Jude Law was really dull and I wish I’d had supper with you lot instead.’) That kind of attitude will only compound your difficulties and probably cause further offence to one or both parties.
After apologizing, you still mightn’t be asked around again by the old college pals, but at least they’ll feel more kindly towards you than would otherwise be the case.
Luckily for every guest, certain hosts are consistently, extravagantly, ludicrously hospitable. They ask you back time and again, forever suggesting you drop in for drinks, remain for a kitchen supper, stay the entire weekend. Basically they do everything except suggest that you move in permanently with them.
Sometimes, though, it’s better to turn down their invitations, no matter how attractive or gratifying these might appear. Treat yourself as the social equivalent of rich chocolate: to be enjoyed only in small and carefully measured quantities. Or think of yourself as currency: the less of you that’s in circulation, the more you’re worth on any specific occasion. Don’t devalue your worth by being always available.
Learn how to say no, without panicking that a refusal to attend another party will:
Cause your hosts grave offence leading to …
Their withdrawal of all future invitations resulting in …
Your becoming society’s pariah and … forever after leading a lonely and tragic existence in which your only company is a family of flea-infested cats.
Before reaching this pitiful conclusion and adopting a litter of kittens, appreciate that if you’re thought good enough to be asked once, you’ll remain good enough to be asked a second time. And when you accept the second invitation, your presence will be all the more appreciated because of its relative rarity.
Here is a conundrum: to turn up precisely on time, or not to turn up precisely on time? That’s the question puzzling so many guests. Whether it’s nobler to be punctual and suffer sitting alone for half an hour in the living-room (while your hosts dash about frantically trying to get themselves, and the rest of the house, in a fit state to receive you), or whether it’s more sensible to arrive twenty minutes or so after the appointed time, confident that by then the party should have got properly underway.
Because absolute rules no longer apply, you’re better to resolve any uncertainty in advance. When, for example, an invitation arrives requesting your presence at eight for eight-thirty, what precisely does this mean? Perhaps you’re expected to turn up on the dot of the earlier time in order to be marshalled into dinner at the later. Or maybe you shouldn’t think of arriving before half-eight unless you enjoy the illicit thrill of seeing your hostess wrapped up in a bath towel. Stop dithering and just call your hosts: they’ll be only too happy to give you a precise time of arrival.
Having been informed of that, it’s absolutely imperative you obey instructions. Lack of punctuality is one of the clearest signs of profound selfishness, evidence that you believe yourself – and your erratic time-keeping – to be more important than anyone else, including your host. No one should have to sit in a restaurant or living-room waiting for your arrival because you didn’t check the route beforehand and are now lost in a maze of suburban cul-de-sacs. Likewise, a carefully planned dinner shouldn’t be ruined because you’re still at home unable to decide which dress to wear.
‘Punctuality’, said Louis XVIII, ‘is the politeness of kings.’ If it’s good enough for royalty, it’s good enough for you. Learn how to be on time and, should you be running late, at least have the good manners to let your hosts or friends know as soon as possible. Don’t rely on telepathy as a means of communicating this information; it has consistently proven to be as undependable as you are.
Most sensibly of all, set off a little earlier than is really necessary; that way, you’ll arrive calm and composed, instead of perspiring and apologetic.
By the way, parents of small children: you’re allowed to use the line about the baby-sitter turning up late just once. It mustn’t become a regular part of your script.
Everyone, whether host or guest, feels at least a little nervous before, and even during, a party. Once you acknowledge this truism, already the feeling isn’t so bad anymore because it has become communal rather than specific to you.
The trick is to channel energy produced by nervousness in a positive fashion – use it to your advantage instead of letting social apprehension stifle you. If you’re worried about having nothing to say, run through a couple of possible conversation topics in advance. This doesn’t mean you need to have entire speeches prepared in advance (‘and the third law of thermodynamics is …’ while an expression of glazed indifference forms on everyone else’s faces). It simply guarantees you arrive at a party with something to say for yourself. Read the morning’s paper, it should provide you with an abundance of potential subject matter.
If this seems too demanding, learn to ask other guests questions. Make these more of the ‘So what do you do?’ variety, rather than the ‘Is there really an afterlife and if so what form does it take?’ type. It remains regrettably true that, for all of us, the subject on which we speak with most gusto is ourselves. Encourage other people to do the talking and you’ll quickly gain a reputation of being intelligent and perceptive.
Resist the temptation to discuss how nervous you feel. Either the conversation will end up taking a turn for the competitive (i.e. ‘I’m much more socially timid than you’ll ever be’) or else you’ll be looked upon as a freak.
Also avoid the seemingly attractive option of taking a few drinks to ease your nerves. Having finally toppled over in a drunken stupor, you’ll be comatose, not calm.
All social life is meant to be a pleasure rather than a penance. Whenever it feels more like the latter than the former, you should reconsider accepting certain invitations because your discomfort risks transmitting itself to other guests and will do nothing to enhance your general popularity. If large crowds intimidate you, avoid those kind of parties. Likewise, skip dinners should the thought of a long night conversing with just a few people bring you out in a panicky sweat. Only attend events where you’re confident of feeling your most relaxed. That should go a long way to reducing your nervousness.
By the way, a constant mystery on the social circuit is that the parties you most look forward to invariably fall a little flat, whereas those you dread often turn out to be rather fun. So maybe a few pre-party nerves aren’t a bad thing.
Don’t eat peanuts? Won’t eat Brussels sprouts? No problem, provided you give enough notice. There are few more annoying surprises than the guest who only announces food allergies as dinner is being served. Should you have a problem with certain foods warn your hosts well in advance. No doubt every effort will be made to accommodate your particular needs.
What if you forgot to tell your hosts about your specific dietary requirements and are now faced with a plate of (to you, at least) inedible shellfish? Don’t make a fuss and don’t draw attention to yourself. The rest of the party really doesn’t need to hear about your difficulties with suspected irritable bowel syndrome or the time you were rushed to hospital after accidentally tasting a morsel of fresh mayonnaise. (‘I can’t even be in the same room as a raw egg.’)
If anyone draws attention to your lacklustre appetite, offer an apologetic excuse – you ate an enormous lunch or you’ve a ridiculously sweet tooth and are waiting for the last course – and then change the subject as quickly as possible.
Similarly, if you’ve any other allergies – feather pillows, pets, small children – always state them when accepting an invitation, but make a point of insisting that no special arrangements should be made for you. Hosts are already harassed enough without having to draw up a separate menu or arranging to kennel their dog just to keep you happy. The good guest learns how to adapt to circumstances.
And if you’re one of those people with a long list of special needs? Well, maybe it’s better that you turn down social engagements and stay put in your own dust-, child-and nut-free environment.
You play the piano divinely. You’re a brilliant juggler. You’ve an extensive repertoire of show tunes. You studied magic for five years and can perform complicated card tricks. Good for you. But keep any/all of the above skills to yourself unless invited by your hosts to demonstrate them.
The urge to show off in company is a powerful one. Nevertheless, it needs to be suppressed because the evening’s original plans almost certainly didn’t include you demonstrating the strength of your vocal chords or your ability to remember a long and complicated joke. There’s an enormous difference between how we perceive ourselves and how others see us. We might fondly imagine that wherever two or more are gathered together, our ability to tell a funny story will always receive a warm welcome. In reality, the welcome is, at best, cool.
On the other hand, if your hosts do ask you to perform (preferably with sufficient advance warning that you can rehearse or at least prepare yourself), agree to do so. Unless you’re Frank Sinatra reincarnated, keep your performance short, try to make it funny and firmly refuse all demands for an encore. Skilled performers learn it’s best to leave an audience wanting more.
Should other guests be invited to show off their own party piece, have the good manners not to talk through their recitation of the Beowulf saga/Bartók song cycle/knife juggling routine. Stifle all yawns, look impressed at this demonstration of talent – and have a full glass of whatever you fancy close at hand to keep you going.
Sometimes your hosts will have arranged entertainment at a party. This is a nuisance because invariably it begins just as you’ve become engrossed in a really good chat with someone else. The performance could be the hosts’ children playing on violin and triangle (shades of The Sound of Music and an old set of curtains being put to good use). Or it could be a professional actor pretending to be a Drunken Guest – although the latter has always seemed a bit mystifying, when plenty of real guests are able to play this role with aplomb. Whatever the choice, once again give the impression of being thrilled by the spectacle and make sure you make mention of it when saying your goodbyes (this will occur shortly after the third encore of violin and triangle).
Go into the kitchen only if you’re prepared to help – but do be prepared for your offer to be turned down. If this occurs, leave immediately; you’ll only get in the way, because even professional chefs on television never seem to have enough space and end up shouting abuse at some innocent who’s blocking access to the blender. Should hosts accept your offer of assistance, it’s highly unlikely the task will involve cooking the meal – by now, they’ll have worked out what needs to be done by themselves. Save the demonstration of your fantastic culinary skills for whenever you return their hospitality.
Your role in someone else’s kitchen will be a fairly menial one – anything from dicing vegetables to scrubbing a saucepan; the best you can hope for is a request to mix the salad dressing. Contemporary kitchens are usually quite small, so cleaning up before/during/after cooking is a constant necessity and your assistance here could be invaluable. Rather than criticize its abilities to remove all residue, you might propose loading the dishwasher, for example, or giving the wine glasses a polish before dinner. Find ways to make yourself useful but if these involve making too many demands on busy hosts (of the ‘Where do you keep your napkins?’ or ‘What’s that used for?’ kind) it might be better to leave things to others better qualified.
No matter how long or how well you know your hosts, nor how often they’ve entertained you, the indisputable fact is that you’re a guest and you retain certain obligations. The most important of these is to be adequately grateful each and every time you’re entertained. Imagine that one of your neighbours has given you a lift to work each morning for the past decade; the length of time doesn’t transform this act of generosity into your entitlement. The same is also true of hospitality; presume it’s a right and not a privilege and you risk having it removed. Hosts can, quite understandably, develop powerful grudges against a guest who forgets to say thank you, or worse, comes to believe it isn’t necessary to do so any more.
Always retain a certain formality, albeit of the barely visible sort. Without first asking permission, you’re not allowed to refill your wineglass, help yourself to food from the fridge, switch on the television or play a CD on the music system. This way no one can ever accuse you of overstepping a boundary you didn’t know existed. This way too, you’re much more likely to avoid one of those sudden rows that can explode after you’ve done something seemingly innocent, like thrown your feet up on a friend’s sofa. You’ve been doing the same thing for years; only now has it become an issue. Remember: somebody else’s home can never be your own – no matter how often you’re asked to treat it as such.
All guests are prone to both of these, and both run the risk of causing their hosts serious aggravation. If you break/damage anything that isn’t your own, tell the owners at once, or as soon as you possibly can. Be contrite and offer to replace the item in question or pay for its repair. A good host will immediately respond that this isn’t necessary; Granny’s priceless Meissen dinner service was really very impractical and by breaking several pieces you’ve provided the spur to buy a set of sensible dishwasher-proof plates. Override these polite platitudes with your own insistence. You smashed the Meissen, you’ve now got to replace it. That’s an absolute rule for all guests.
Borrowing: You must always ask first. Making a ‘they won’t mind/won’t miss it’ argument to yourself isn’t the point. That book or CD or scarf or sum of money doesn’t belong to you. Therefore you have to be given permission before borrowing it.
Don’t take umbrage if your hosts ask you to write them a little ‘borrowed by …’ note. This doesn’t mean they don’t trust your honesty, merely that they don’t trust their own memories. Of course, if they stamp the inside cover of the book with a return-by date and warn you about fines charged for lateness, maybe it’s better not to borrow from them.
Prompt returns, though, are important. Make sure the book you were loaned isn’t still sitting on your shelves three years later. Return it a.s.a.p. – and preferably accompanied by a letter of thanks.
When it comes to exits, there are the good, the bad and the downright messy. Make sure your departure from any social gathering is as well timed as your arrival. The simplest rule to memorize is this: never be the last person to go. That’s applicable no matter how much your hosts press you to stay. The most important thing to leave behind is a longing for more of your company; this is unlikely to occur if you’re still holding court in someone else’s house at six in the morning. So, once you see other guests preparing to move on, make your own preparations to follow suit.
At a big party you don’t need to say goodbye to everyone, but if someone in the midst of a tête-à-tête catches your eye as you’re heading out the door, wave or signal your goodbye without causing any disruption.
Insist your hosts don’t accompany you to the door; they’ll probably ignore your pleas but you should try. The only exception to the above advice is when you’re at a big party, the hosts are at the far end of the room and it would be incredibly disruptive to demand their attention. In which case, simply slip away.
Saying thank you for hospitality is important and the best way to do this is in writing. A good handwritten thank-you letter will always endear you to your hosts.
When writing to thank your hosts, try to be specific rather than general in your remarks. After a lunch or dinner party, for example, instead of just saying how much you loved the food, pick out one dish for particular mention. Was there a topic of conversation that caught everyone’s attention or another guest whose company you really enjoyed? If so, be sure to comment on these details in your letter, because that will show how memorable you found the occasion. Above all, be prompt. Try to write your letter the following day and definitely don’t allow more than a week to pass before sending it. The longer you leave this task, the less fresh will be your enthusiasm and, very likely, the more bland your appreciation.
What about using the telephone for your thank yous or newer technology such as emails and text messages? A lot depends on the circumstances – and probably also on the age of your hosts. Despite the internet becoming more widespread a surprisingly large number of people still don’t understand it or prefer to use it only for work purposes.
Over the age of eighteen, gate-crashing is inexcusable behaviour. You shouldn’t do it – and if you do, prepare for the possibility of being asked to leave. When this happens, don’t dispute your putative hosts’ rights, just go.
The knee that presses a little too fervently against your own. The hand that wanders across an expanse of sofa to entwine itself around your shoulders. The foot that strays under the table and is now meandering up and down your leg. Flattering perhaps, but unwanted certainly. Something must be done.
What form the ‘something’ takes will depend on who’s paying you the attention, and on its form. If the person is another guest, make your lack of interest apparent as speedily as possible. Some people still believe that the word ‘no’ is really a coded means of saying yes.
Remove the unwanted hand – or whatever anatomical part is causing you trouble – and speak your mind plainly, firmly but quietly. Then move yourself as far out of range as you can. It’s terribly tempting under these circumstances to make a public spectacle of the pest, but being unkind only compounds the problem. Besides, there could be reasons unknown to you why you’ve been singled out for this unsolicited notice – aside from your being extraordinarily gorgeous and sensual, of course. The person responsible might be drunk/tired/going through an emotional crisis/on medication and acting out of character. Noisy denunciations serve no purpose except to cause general embarrassment. Presumably that’s not your intention. But you might want to tell your hosts about the incident, either at once or later. Then they can make sure it doesn’t happen again to a guest in their house.
More problematic are those occasions when the person pestering you is your host. Most of us will have been invited to dinner and belatedly realized we were supposed to be the last course on the night’s menu. If this turns out to be the case – your host’s hands turn exploratory and there are no other guests around – you’re entitled to make your apologies and leave.
The presence of fellow guests should spare you the worst; just make sure you’re among the first of the party’s departures. Ring or write your customary thanks without alluding to any incident that might have taken place and turn down invitations from that particular host for the next six months or however much time you think advisable.
Most pests are harmless and easily swatted off; their efforts to ensnare you will make an amusing story later. But occasionally they’re much more troublesome and even dangerous. If you find yourself the recipient of persistent unwanted attention from someone who attempts to force you to do something without your complete consent, immediately report the incident to the relevant official authorities. You’ve an obligation to do this, both to yourself and to others who at some future date could find themselves in a similar situation.