Soda, Soda, All Around....

Miss Manners faces a crusader of carbonation:

Dear Miss Manners: I have been to occasions that do not have my favorite nonalcoholic drink ... DIET DECAF COLA!!!!!!

I suggest you tell the host to let everyone know with/in the invitations what nonalcoholic drinks will be available. The host should suggest if anyone has a particular type nonalcoholic beverage not offered to please feel free to bring their own!!!!!!!!!!!! After finding out the HARD WAY, I started taking my own nonalcoholic drinks years ago ......... !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[take a moment for a snarfle....]

Gentle Reader: How did you get so hepped up without alcohol or caffeine?

Miss Manners is worried about you. Please take a deep breath and sit down while she explains the concept of hospitality.

There is a difference between a restaurant, which sells you food that you specifically order, and a private party, where the host offers you refreshments that he provides.

The restaurant knows exactly what you want because you do the ordering. Hosts, in contrast, are friends who wish to see you for the sake of your company. They should also want to please you by offering refreshment but must guess what would be pleasing to various guests.

Providing nonalcoholic drinks is thus standard. Providing each guest with the exact brand and mixture he or she prefers is difficult and burdensome, part of the finicky-guest syndrome that has discouraged reasonable people from entertaining.

Neither restaurants nor people’s homes should be treated like picnic grounds where you bring your own goodies. If you don’t like what is available at a restaurant, you need not do business there. If you are not willing, for the sake of politeness and sociability, to content yourself with water but must always have your favorite drink, you need not attend parties where it is not served.

Sometimes I roll my eyes just leeetle at Miss Manners because she's so very insistent on traditional modes of entertaining. In particular, she advocates 100%-potluck-free parties and dinners, where the host or hostess makes all the arrangements the way she wants and the guests simply come and enjoy. In this situation, the rule of social reciprocation is paramount: the host bears the entire burden and joy of the party this time, so it is up to her guests to take a turn next time.

It's like taking turns picking up the check, instead of splitting the check. Taking turns is neater, and seems more gracious somehow--and ends the evening without all that frustrating math. But it only works if the parties involved are vigilant about reciprocation.

Miss Manners tends to frown upon the potluck, where everyone contributes equally to the spread, except in the case of church basement suppers. At the very least, she insists, the person who plans and arranges the location for the potluck cannot properly be called a "host."

The model of entertainment that I'm most familiar with is somewhere between these two, the "what can I bring?" model. I grew up in a world where you don't go to a party without an appetizer, salad, or dessert--but that the host plans and provides the main course, side dishes, drinks, decorations, etc. I don't think there's anything wrong with this--in fact, I think most of the people I know are comfortable and happy with this model--but I think it does change the clear rules of hosting, reciprocation, hospitality, and good-guest-ness.

For example, Miss Manners is terribly, horribly opposed to the idea of a cash bar at a wedding or similar grand occasion (or any occasion, for that matter). She abhors the idea of the host asking the guest to pay for his own drink.

Hosts should serve what they can afford to serve--be it a full bar, beer and wine, or a big old bowl of punch--and guests should drink it graciously.

However, I think this increasing sense of guest-ownership in the party that gives rise to things like the cash bar. In a world where the host is truly the one and only host, there'd be no question of who pays for the drinks. But we've entered a phase where guests are actually willing--even prefer--to pay if it means they have a stake and a say in what they get back. Hosts know they can't afford it, but they also suspect that guests would rather have the choice to buy it for themselves, than to go entirely without.

This diet-caffeine-free-cola fanatic is just an example of the kind of guest that, as Miss Manners suggests, discourages reasonable people from entertaining. If someone complained that their host provided, I don't know, Smirnoff instead of Grey Goose, it would seem obvious that they were snooty and ungracious. But even though the financial impact of requesting d-c-f cola is obviously not quite the same, the request says the same thing: "what you've chosen to provide is not good enough for ME."

I'm not a stickler for formal etiquette by any means, but it does serve up social interaction down as lovely, bite-sized, hors d'oeuvres, while "our" way seems more like sharing a giant order of supreme nachos with friends--it's tasty and awesome, but can get messy.

Can't-Win Wedding

Here be yet another example of how weddings transform fun ideas into scarring, never-to-be-forgotten family rifts:

Dear Miss Manners: My husband and I attended a wedding with a 1920s theme, where the guests were encouraged to dress in period costume if they felt so moved.

Many of the gentlemen who arrived in the suggested costume wore hats, to better convey the theme, and we all by unspoken accord wore them the entire evening (perhaps, subconsciously, in imitation of the groom, who did the same).

Later, it developed that the bride’s grandmothers and aunts had been much dismayed by all the gentlemen wearing hats indoors. Obviously, there’s nothing to be done about that now, but for the future what’s correct?

Gentle Reader: Gentlemen who lived during the ’20s were normally great wearers of hats, so they were sure about what to do. If you really want to be in character, you would therefore remove the hat indoors.

Arrrrrrrrrrgh.....of course Miss Manners and the grandmas are technically correct that hats shouldn't be worn indoors, and of course gentlemen of the day would have known this and never worn their hats indoors. But their hats weren't part of a carefully contrived costume, and these were. And if the whole wedding was indoors, they never would have gotten to wear their hats at all.

I think following the groom's example was the right thing to do in this case (the real point of etiquette, after all, is to prevent embarrassment and confusion among as many people as possible). Had he removed his hat, others should have as well--and they most likely would have.

Assuming the guys had the good sense not to wear their hats in the church, I think allowing your memory of your granddaughter's wedding to be overshadowed by your memory of uncouth young men in fedoras is a shame. Let it go.

That's not really my area....but.....

Many advice columnists attempt to carve out a niche for themselves (saving money, love, raising children, race relations...even Carolyn used to cater to the 30-and-under set), but the most famous boutique advice columnist is, no doubt, Miss Manners. She's also the only one whose readers seem to understand and obey her emphasis on polite society rather than internal anguish and family dilemmas (or maybe she just has highly attentive editors). Nevertheless, even she can't escape the occasional query about (young) (forbidden) love:

Dear Miss Manners: I love science. The year before I made sure that those were the only kinds of classes that I was going to get and I did get my classes, only to end up falling for the teacher teaching one of my classes, Biology 2.

He is six years older than me, and he seems to be the ideal man for any girl. I fall in deeper as the days go by, but I understand that there can be nothing between us, that it is impossible because he and I have our separate lives and goals, we are going in opposite directions. I know that what I feel is fake, I know that it’s a crush, but I doubt it because crushes don’t last a whole year, and when I am with him I’m really happy.

Is it really OK for me to feel this way about my teacher? I would like to have your opinion.

Gentle Reader: This letter is one that Miss Manners should not consider. From the etiquette point of view, how you feel is your business as long as you behave yourself.

But heck, lovelorn advisers often presume to dispense etiquette advice. No doubt Miss Manners’ advice to the lovelorn will be of the same quality.

You cannot, of course, embarrass your teacher—and probably endanger his job—by flirting with him. But as you love science, it would seem reasonable of you to become a biologist. If you work really hard at it and win the Nobel Prize and return to campus to tell this teacher that you owe it all to him, Miss Manners promises that he will find you irresistible. Presuming that by that time, he has not acquired a wife and six children.

(snarfle). Thanks Miss Manners!

P.S. FWIW, I can't help but think this this crush started long before this semester's Bio 2 course...the letter's tone and vocabulary (teacher vs. professor) make me think it was written by a high schooler. And in what high school can you take ONLY science classes? That's certainly not typical, and while it perhaps can be finagled, such a feat would take the blind persistence of unrequited love, not just a fondness for the subject (which would, no doubt, be tempered by an understanding that higher level math education is also necessary in this field). I'm not sure the writer of this letter is being entirely honest about his/her predicament. Then again, when it comes to sticky predicaments, who is?

Buyer's remorse can't compare to renter's shame....

Another person looking for something to be upset about: 

Dear Miss Manners: My husband and I are renting a nice home in an upscale neighborhood outside Washington, D. C. Since moving in, at least a dozen neighbors have approached us with the off-putting welcome of “So, you are renting this house?”

We both find the question to be rather forward and rude.

Without knowing our reason for renting, it puts us on the defensive for not being “able” to buy a home, when, in fact, we are more than able to; we just choose not to in this current market.

Could you help us with an appropriate comeback that lets them know that yes, we are renters, but that in no way makes us second-class citizens and we don’t appreciate having to defend our status?

Gentle Reader: Don’t you want to get the curtains up before you start sparring with the neighbors?

Miss Manners is not at all sure that you have any cause. She has no tolerance for pure nosiness, real estate or otherwise, but surely you understand that neighbors have a legitimate interest in what is going on in the neighborhood. Maybe they hate your landlords and hope they are gone for good. Maybe they like you and are hoping you are there to stay. Maybe they also rent.

Besides, don’t you know that nowadays, seeming rich is considered more offensive than seeming poor?

Everything about this is really weird.  If this woman was trying to make her neighbors look intrusive and boorish, she didn't inject nearly enough drama into her rendering of their question.  Although the details of their finances are of course private, and should be, whether a house in a neighborhood is owned by you or someone else is not.  And an "upscale" neighborhood seems especially likely to be conscious of these details.  Aren't property holdings public information?  Maybe not (I invite any of my readers with knowledge about information policy to weigh in). 

Even without digging into local records, the neighbors have probably seen the "for rent" in front of the house, or knew the previous renters.....there are so many clues that make "Are you renting this house?" a perfectly reasonable question to ask.  

Not to mention that, according to this writer, the question is not "Why are you renting?" but simply "Are you renting?"  They are.  Why does that require offering any explanation at all?

I think it's fair to say that when someone  reacts to an innocuous question this way, it's usually because THEY have a problem with the situation being asked about--not that the inquirer does.   Perhaps her husband made the call that "this market" was not the time to buy a house and she disagrees, or perhaps she's bitter about paying out years of rent in a particularly pricey neighborhood if they want to be prepared to buy a few years down the road.  Or maybe it's just a neighborhood attitude thing--perhaps she expected the residents of this neighborhood to be snooty and look down on her, so that's what she's seeing.  Or maybe she's new to big cities where many "first class" citizens rent their entire lives. 

There could be countless reasons....but whatever the issue is, it seems to lie with the renter, not her new neighbors. 

Maybe she should fill her house with really expensive furniture and throw a fancy party, so they'll all understand that, whatever her situation, it's NOT because of the money. At least not her own. 

Mom's explanation falls on deaf ears

This woman wrote in to Miss Manners aware that she had responded to the situation at hand in anger and with hurt feelings, and if she doesn't totally regret her reaction, she also realizes it wasn't appropriate, either. She wants to know what she should have done instead:

Dear Miss Manners:My son just turned 3 1/2. He has moderately severe hearing loss and wears hearing aids in both ears. As a result, he has even greater problems with volume control than the standard 3-year-old.

This Saturday afternoon, we were at the library. We looked at books for about 15 minutes, checked some out, and then stopped to put his snow suit on to go out. At this point, a man in his 50s came over to me and asked me to keep my son’s voice down. I showed him the hearing aids and said that my son was doing the best he could.

The man was disdainful and walked off saying, “Excuses, excuses. Everybody has excuses.”

I was cut to the quick and blush to admit that I called after him, “And you’re perfect?”

Had we been inexcusably loud at any point, a librarian would have said something. As we were on our way out, could the man not have suffered another 15 seconds?

In any case, a stranger took it upon himself to school me. I should not have responded by showing him my son’s disability and asking for tolerance. I didn’t think I was trying to put him in his place, but it’s possibly how the man felt. And it’s possible that it is what I was trying to do, on an unconscious level. After all, parents are not famous for rational reactions when being approached about how they’re handling their kids.

What would have been the polite reaction?

Miss Manners gives a reasonable answer, I think, though I have absolutely no experience with disabled children and how best to guide them socially. What do you think?

Gentle Reader: The offense that most concerns Miss Manners here is the one you committed against your son. Whether or not he picked up every word, he undoubtedly understood that he was being cited as a special case whose hearing loss excuses him from being considerate of others.

There are two bad lessons here, in addition to the embarrassment he will feel increasingly at being singled out. One is that he can get away with behavior that others cannot, and the other is that he doesn’t quite fit in with normal people.

The stranger, while no great example of manners, was correct when he said that you offered an excuse instead of an apology. “Sorry we disturbed you” was all that was necessary.

Miss Manners' response makes it even clearer that when the man came up to this mom about the noise, she pointed (probably literally) straight to her child--which is definitely inappropriate, whether he has a legitimate difficulty with volume control or not. Talk about passing the blame!

But I also feel like a public library is not, these days, the same kind of somber, quiet place that we expected 50 years ago, or that we expect today in academic libraries. Yes, there should still be an air of respect for others and for learning, but especially in an area where a three year old would find himself, there are surely other children playing, reading out loud, and making noise. This could cut two ways....either this man maybe needs to find another corner, farther from the children's section, or maybe the fact that this mom and boy stood out among all the other chatty kids indicates that, in fact, he was being significantly louder.

I think I agree that overall, the best thing to say would be exactly what Miss Manners said: "Sorry we disturbed you," in as neutral a tone of voice as possible, and leave--since they were leaving anyway. Does this strike anyone as too hard on the mom, or the child? What about the complainer, what do we think of him?

Losing Jobs without Losing it All

I've noticed a trend lately in the columns that is a clear reflection of our troubled economy: lots and lots and LOTS of letters from folks who have lost their jobs, or whose friends and spouses have. Most of the writers simply want to know how they can best be helpful and supportive, without coming across as patronizing (in particular if they still have a job, especially at the place from which the person was terminated). These two samples juxtapose nicely, and give perspective from both sides. First, Miss Manners:

Dear Miss Manners: Several of my co-workers were recently laid off. Some of them are finishing up a few things for a week or two before they leave, and others left the same day.

What do you say to an acquaintance who was just laid off? It’s a painful time for them, and I want to say “I’m sorry” or “Are there things I can do to help?” but I don’t want to come across as pitying them, or as saying “Ha-ha—I’m still here, and you’re not, sucks to be you!”

I feel awful for these long-term coworkers, but I’m not a close enough friend to actually know what they would need or appreciate. I also feel guilty about still having my job, but this isn’t a time to whine about me, it’s a time to reach out to them.

A card seems stupid and pointless. A nonconversation sounds awkward and awful. Ignoring it seems worse. A gift certificate or some such seems to assume that they are in dire financial straits.

Gentle Reader: What about taking each one to lunch, your treat, and not bringing up the subject?

The gesture itself shows that you care, without any of the undertones that you fear. You will then be able to adjust your tone to the way each is handling it and offer practical help if it seems relevant. Miss Manners would consider this especially graceful if your invitation is made or repeated after they have left, to show that they are missed and not forgotten.

Then, Abby:
DEAR ABBY: In this day of massive cutbacks and layoffs, please remind your readers that people who have recently lost their jobs need their friends now more than ever.

Having found myself in this situation, I know firsthand that people I thought were my friends truly are not. The phone calls and e-mails stopped almost immediately when word got out that I was laid off. Being treated as if I have some sort of contagious disease has been as bad as losing my job. I know what happened to me is a sign of the times and no reflection on me.

So -- to all of you who have chosen to no longer communicate with me because of my employment status: I am fine. I have a positive attitude. This will not keep me down. I realize that my possibilities are endless. However badly you treat me now, when you are in the same situation, I will be there for you.

To the wonderful man in my life, thank you for standing by me and giving me daily encouragement. To my family, whom I worship beyond belief, thank you for your understanding and continued support. You have made me the person I am, and because of you, I will succeed. -- UNEMPLOYED ... NOT DOWN AND OUT

DEAR NOT DOWN AND OUT: Thank you for so eloquently pointing out that people who have lost their jobs should not be abandoned, and that the support of friends and family is crucial.

Although family relationships are our primary source of emotional support, the relationships we form at work and our work-related contacts can become like an extended second family.

If these relationships are treated as expendable, it can often be as traumatic as the death of a loved one. When a death occurs, there can be as many as five distinct stages of grief. These are anger, denial, bargaining, depression and acceptance. However, when it comes to job loss, there is also the added element of fear.

This is why I am appealing to you, my readers. No one can ignore the fact that times have grown uncertain. Millions of good, hardworking individuals have lost their jobs through no fault of their own. More bad news may be on the way.

Now is the time for all of us to reach out a hand to encourage and help one another. People who are unemployed should not be made to feel they have been discarded. There is strength in numbers. We will all be stronger if we stand together and observe the Golden Rule: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. -- LOVE, ABBY

I would venture that it's unlikely that most people see termination as a contagious disease and hope to dodge it by avoiding contact. Rather, like the writer of the first letter, they probably just don't know how best to express their support without trivializing or coming off as superior--afraid of causing offense, they choose instead to do nothing.

Abby compares the trauma of losing a job to the grief of losing a loved one--I think the reactions of friends, relatives and former colleagues in both situations are comparable: when we don't know what to say or do, we too often do nothing at all. While I'm glad the writer of the second letter has such strength and confidence, its clear that her friends' passivity and distance has made her pretty bitter towards them--to the extent that she's written them off as not "real" friends. This abandonment has redoubled the pain of her termination, and she's not going to take it!

A good reminder to us all that thoughts and intentions don't do much--it is words and more importantly actions that tell others we care about them and haven't forgotten or abandoned them.

Idle hands...don't belong to kinesthetic learners?

This column is getting a bit old, but since the topic came up a social event (weekly happy hour) recently, I thought I'd post it.

The issue raised by my peers was that of knitting in class. Knitting, as many of you will realize, has made comeback in recent years and more young people than ever are making scarves--and the more ambitious are on to hats, bags, legwarmers, and socks. But is knitting in a public setting--one where you're assumed to be paying attention and even taking notes--blatantly rude? Let's find out....

Dear Miss Manners: At a condo association meeting consisting of about 60 people, there was a head table with six people, facing about six rows of tables, about five feet away. In the front row were two ladies — not sitting next to each other — doing their needlework.
Is it proper to do needlework while at an event such as this? I noticed that the speakers were distracted (and so was I) by their movements. Between reading the directions and rearranging their work, one couldn’t help but turn their way to see what was going on. I say it is rude.

Gentle Reader: But what if they don’t have hand-held devices that enable them to check their e-mail, text message and play games while the committee is droning on?
Not that Miss Manners condones failing to pay attention at meetings, or rather, failing to look as if one is paying attention. She merely wants to make the point that there are worse distractions available. Needlework at least has precedent behind it. For centuries, ladies sat quietly doing needlework while gentlemen conversed around them, and didn’t miss a thing of what was going on.

I agree that in this day and age there are plenty of things you can do that are more distracting that knit in class....I would be lying if I said I hadn't participated in facebook messaging, even live chatting, during class--often with other folks in the same class. At least part of the issue seems to be appearances--if you're facebooking, MAYBE it looks like you're taking notes (though most professors would probably argue they can tell the difference). If you're knitting, there's no disguise, and no sense of needing one.

But I also disagree with Miss Manners' deference to precedent on this matter. I would contend that the needlework women engaged in while sitting in on gentlemen's conversation was acceptable because they were not considered part of the conversation, and not distracting because they literally were not seen. Indeed, in that period the guise of being busy with something else may have allowed many a woman to listen in where otherwise she would not have been welcome.

The problem that this person is complaining about is the opposite: people who are expected to be actively engaged, actively engaging themselves in a different activity. I won't argue that you can't knit and listen, becuase it would be pointless. You can, and many people do.. But it does convey a certain level of apartness. You can knit and listen, sure, but you can't, for example, knit and raise your hand, or knit and take notes, or knit and keep your eyes on the speaker. And these women, it seems, were doing needlework that entailed reviewing and following directions--so that surely required the majority of their attention.

So I guess I don't really know if it's "rude" or not. Knitting in unorthodox settings doesn't bother me as much as it does some of my colleagues. But I don't think Miss Manners' explanation is particularly helpful--or even relevant, so much have settings changed.

The Lunch Crowd

From Miss Manners:

Dear Miss Manners: I am appalled that on more than several occasions, I have had friends, family or employers assume that since they don’t have lunch (during an entire day when I’m helping them), neither do I.

At the very least, I would like them to state, “I don’t have lunch, but you’re welcome to do so at this time, if you chose.” I don’t think it’s my place to bring it up, since I’m on their turf.
I end up very starving and very angry. In my opinion, it’s highly disrespectful to assume that someone who is helping you has no interest in lunch. I would never let a friend, relative or employee go without lunch, and I am amazed that people even consider conducting themselves in this manner.

Gentle Reader: Feeling grouchy, are we? Have a sandwich; you’ll feel better.
Miss Manners cannot offer you one at the moment, but she can offer you the means to get one. Simply ask, “When are we breaking for lunch?” While your hosts certainly should have offered, it is not odd for you to ask because, you point out, lunch is part of the normal routine.
Should the answer be “Oh, I never have lunch,” you can cheerfully reply, “Well, I do, so I think I’ll take a break and go get some.” In cases where you are doing a favor, you might add,
“So maybe we should break for the day.”

I can definitely see this from both sides of the (lunch) table. I get cranky when I don't eat and need to if I'm to maintain my sanity and to keep working through the day. But I'm also known for not breaking for official meals. I'll snack or graze, or decide to take lunch at 4:30 or something, and tend to feel constricted by folk who need to stop and sit down with a sandwich, a milk carton, an apple, and a cookie at precisely noon for Lunch. Nevertheless, the folks who do are smarter than I am: they know they need the break and the fuel, and take it. Everyone's different and runs on a different schedule.

I have to say though, that as a sporadic eater who half the time forgets to feed herself, it can be exhausting to keep track of which people you're working/socializing with need to eat specific meals at specific times and make plans to meet all of their needs. As Miss Manners suggests, if this is you, I think you should just say so and take care of it yourself. (This is different when you're a guest somewhere and your host has the responsibility for making sure you have the things you need--this can still wear me out as hostess because I forget--not because I'm evil and sadistic--but it's still my job and one I took on).

When you're working on a project together (at work or with friends or relatives) it's your own job to stand up for yourself and eat when you need to--don't expect others to take care of it for you. Especially "during an entire day when [you're] helping them"--these kind of help-days are more common, I think, with older relatives. They may not feel the need to eat as much, or may not have the means to treat you to lunch. Alternatively, workaholics may get so into what they're doing they have no idea how much time has passed.

Just as you shouldn't have to skip lunch to accommodate them, they shouldn't have to stop working and eat because you want to. Just eat (or don't) as you choose!

Sue me, sue me, what can you do me...

1) The Tribune co. files for bankruptcy (apparently the Cubs and Wrigley not included)...."Tribune Media Services" web page that was still offering a smattering of old Cheryl Lavin columns now returns at 404 error.

2) How not to do law school:

Dear Miss Manners — I have just started law school, where professionalism is part of the education. At this point, I would be grateful just for respect and common courtesy.

The trouble arises in one class where there are no assigned seats. One of my classmates saves a seat for her friend. The first time, I acquiesced. The second time, I put my hands on the chair before sitting down and said I was going to sit there, whereupon she snatched it away, saying I wasn’t. The third time, when I announced my intention to sit next to her she piled all of her possessions onto it. I am at a loss as to how to respond to such immature behavior.

As an aside, the first two times her friend could have just as easily sat on her other side. The friend suggested that we consult our professor, but he declined to become involved other than as a last resort.

Seriously? SERIOUSLY??

Miss Manners questioned what on earth "you two" are doing in law school--I'm thinking she and I are still awaiting the answer together with bated (or not) breath. I want to comment on this situation, but can't find anything to say but, "seriously???"

I do like how the writer put her (or his!) hand on the chair and stated explicitly, "I am going to sit here." Definitely the best possible solution.

I'm sure this is about getting the best spot in class in order to be noticed by the professor in a cuthroat (really...) environment, or something. But now they've been noticed by the professor anyway--and hardly in a positive light. Jeez.

Miss Manners and Masters of Ceremonies

I wrote in to Miss Manners today in response to her Wednesday column , which addressed a reader's question about the purpose of a master of ceremonies at a wedding. The person wanted to know when, and in God's name, why, this had become standard practice.

Miss Manners was brief and appropriately miffed that such a thing would ever occur: They narrate the event, giving fanfare introductions, public instructions and calls for applause. Why people will pay to have a formal party with their relatives and friends turned into something between an awards ceremony and a reality-TV show, Miss Manners cannot imagine.

(Yes, Miss Manners does write in the third person, in case you gentle readers had not yet picked up that convention).

Anyway...have many weddings become circuses? Of course they have. In fact, I think Miss Manners' description (damn, now I sound like I'm HER talking about mySELF) is rather apt. And yet, I think she has a tendency to inaccurately idealize the olden days, when weddings were simple and sane warm family affairs. So I wrote in to point out another perspective. My letter follows:

Dear Miss Manners,

A reader recently wrote in to ask you about the function of a master of ceremonies at a wedding. While think your response, which expressed perplexity and a bit of annoyance at the "cross between an awards ceremony and a reality show" that many weddings have become was correct, I think there may be room for flexibility here.

Surely when wedding receptions more often featured live music, there would have been a bandleader or wedding singer to set the mood, ease transitions, etc. In recent years, that has increasingly been the role of the DJ (some of whom, of course, are more irritating than others).

Even more recently, though, many couples have opted to forgo both bands and DJs, opting instead to create a playlist of their own and pipe it through thespeakers directly from a laptop. When this is the case, and when the party is above 150 people, I think it's acceptable, even desirable, to have someone with a microphone help guide the direction of the party--if anything, it keeps the host from screaming and pointing, and limits (to a certain extent) the impatient clinking of glasses with forks.

If this person is not leading a band or playing music, I suppose he or she is effectively a master of ceremonies.For the record, I agree that having an MC in addition to a DJ, wedding singer, or bandleader seems excessive.

Sincerely,
BW

Miss Manners will probably be horrified that I would suggest it's OK for a wedding to be so large that a host cannot herd all of his or her own guests without the aid of a loudspeaker. But if she wants to address THAT problem, she's going to have to back a lot farther than the 21st century. Weddings, not all weddings, but weddings, have been monstrous since the beginning of time.

It's not etiquette--it's tradition.

Miss Manners 2.0

Today's problem, I imagine, is one Miss Manners never expected she'd have to handle. And she does it rather well, I must say. She maintains her staid, self-consciously old-fashioned tone while talking about (possibly scandalous) facebook pics, which reads a bit funny at first but ultimately is a credit to her versatility, I think. I guess good manners really never go out of style!

Here's the letter:

Dear Miss Manners: A long-term boyfriend and I loved taking pictures together and putting them up online on our Facebook profiles for everyone to see. However, we have been broken up for almost a year now, and I have been dating another guy for a while.

I have not taken down the pictures of us (there are hundreds of them) because I consider them a part of my history. People have to search pretty far back in my photos to find them. I am also afraid that it would offend him, as we are attempting to remain friends. However, it leads to some awkwardness when friends of my current boyfriend ask me about "that other guy" in some of my old pictures.

This is a fairly new problem for me, technology-wise, and I'm not sure how to approach it. Is it more appropriate for me to take the pictures down or leave them up?

The mind boggles a bit at the thought of HUNDREDS of pictures that might need removing (Miss Manners does not enter into discussion on the pros and cons of de-tagging pictures that remain online--is it ok to de-tag someone ELSE in your own picture?), though I admit I have a couple people in mind for whom this might be a problem someday.

But the fact that the writer says you have to "search back pretty far" to find the pictures indicates to me that she is doing just that (probably at work). And honestly, she's probably the only one. No, nothing online ever really goes away, and she is wise to realize that out of sight does NOT equal out of the computer's mind...but if they've been broken up for over a year, and the photos are buried under hundreds of new ones (the writer does not indicate whether or not the same pattern is recurring with the new boyfriend) I imagine that no one else is really interested enough in this person's life to go digging for them. Until she runs for public office.

My favorite excerpt from Miss Manners' response follows, and, although grammatically awkward, is a useful lesson for all of us today:
Online postings should contain only what you might freely show new acquaintances without embarrassing others or (as an astonishing number of people need to be told) themselves.

It's so easy (it's so easy it's so easy it's so easy)

In most cases, we know, it's practically impossible for an advice columnist to speak both specifically to a writer's own situation, and also give insights for the masses. They can't get all the information they need to lead the writer in the right direction based on three sentences in a letter.

That's why so often they fall back on "seek counseling" or, if the writer is a minor, "talk to a trusted adult." These answers aren't particularly helpful, but neither are they harmful. They're not particularly satisfying to readers (nor to the writers, I imagine), but at least it's an answer.

But there's (at least) one area where columnists can be specific, while also broadly helpful to readers across all types of columns: giving people the words to bring up difficult, contentious, or embarrassing subjects with colleagues, partners, and, in today's case, strangers on the subway.

Today Miss Manners printed a letter from a woman frustrated with fellow commuters who take whole subway poles for themselves by leaning on them, preventing others from holding on:

Is there a polite way to confront these violators? After all, it is another breach of subway etiquette to speak to strangers (unless there is an unusual event, of course). On the occasions when I have tried a gentle request not to lean, I have usually been met with hostility.

Miss Manners assures her that there is, and it goes a little something like this: "Excuse me, may I hold on here please?"

So simple...yet so effective. For the rider who has been seething for years over this breach of transportetiquette and assault against her safety and personal rights, plotting in her bubbling brain the poster of subway rules she is going to passive aggressively and surreptitiously post throughout the city, such a simple, neutral request probably seems to come out of the blue.

If she's anything like me, she practiced it in her head over and over and over again. And tried it. And it worked. And, hopefully, it made her day.

Miss Manners is great at these--turning potential confrontations of the offenders by the offended into simple, gracious interactions. Undermining the lecture in manners they want to give by reminding them to simply use their own.

Amy is also great at this. Her forte is less in reminding people not to be crazy, and more in helping them approach potentially embarrassing conversations--the co-worker who is unaware of their fatally bad breath/obnoxious and interfering habit, the partner who gives lame gifts (at Christmas or in bed...), the neighbor who has overstepped their picket fence.

When we feel like we're being put upon, we tend to seethe until the issue seems too huge for us to approach, and we don't know what to say, because we'd rather just never face the person again than address what is bothering us. This is the niche where advice columnists have real power and the good ones have real skill--they have the objectivity and distance to see the situation for what it is and spell out in simple, non-confrontational but efficient terms, a script for handling these difficult conversations.

They make it look so damn easy.