Tag Archive for: manners

To All the Scrooges Out There…Bah Humbug!

/in /by

by Susan McBride

You’d think that with the world in such turmoil people would start being nicer to each other, but it seems just the opposite. I don’t know why civility seems such a rarity these days, but it is (had a nice rant with Maggie on Wednesday about this!). Is it because technology has made it unnecessary to deal with people face to face? Is it that profit has taken such precedence over people that “customer service” has become as extinct as “Made in the U.S.A.”? Is it because rudeness has become so commonplace that it’s pretty much acceptable? What the heck’s going on, and how can we fix it?

During hard times, people are supposed to band together, aren’t they? Instead of sounds of cooperation, all I hear is political sniping. I am so sick of seeing grown-ups on TV, lying and arguing and acting like misbehaving children (paging SuperNanny!). How can we expect our kids to act polite if there aren’t any role models of politeness to follow?

I’m feeling strangely nostaglic for my growing-up years. We moved around a lot when I was a kid, but every new neighborhood we landed in had a similar sense of community. You knew all the families on your street and probably several more streets around you. Neighbors looked out for neighbors, and any families with kids became close friends. We shared dinners, played kickball or softball or Red Rover, and raced our bikes up and down the streets. I had a cute older boy once offer me a cigarette while hiding behind a bush during flashlight tag, and I realized after one puff that I never wanted a cigarette to touch my lips again! When I fell off the slide and landed on my head during recess (brilliantly trying to go down standing up in tennis shoes), my mom couldn’t be reached. So Mrs. Butler next-door picked me up and let me lay on her couch and watch TV, eating Charleston Chews, until my mom got home hours later. It was awesome.

As I grew up and moved around a few times as an adult, I felt more of a sense of isolation in my neighborhoods. There’s more distance between people, and everyone’s so wary (perhaps, rightly so, considering the headlines on the evening news). Could be that all this fear and distance has made people less practiced in common courtesies. I’m rather stunned when someone opens a door for me these days (and it’s usually an older man). I actually try to open doors for people whenever I can, just to freak them out.

And the uncivility doesn’t stop with pedestrians. It’s almost worse when people get in their cars. I dread having to go anywhere as no one seems to obey traffic rules anymore. Red lights don’t mean “stop” for most. In St. Louis, if you have any sense, you wait about three beats for cars to keep going through a red light at an intersection before you can go on the green. Say the guy in the far left lane decides he needs to be in the far right lane. No problem. He just cuts across three lanes of traffic to make his exit. It’s ridiculous. I don’t say the f-word in public and only in private when I’m very frustrated; but somehow when I’m out running errands, it pops out of my mouth a lot. Were drivers always this bad? Or is it more of the rudeness thing? The “I don’t give a s**t about anyone else but myself” attitude that seems so prevalent?

I know, I know. It’s the holiday season. Everything should be all pretty lights and bows, but I can’t seem to stop stumbling over Scrooges everywhere I go. Now that I’ve ranted, I’m going to say “poo poo to mean people” (did I do that right, Marian?). I am going to stick a smile on my face even if I’m pinned against the Wii display during crowded shopping days. I plan to say, “Happy Holidays,” open doors, and be as pleasant as can be no matter how many Scrooges I encounter. If I’m nice then maybe it’ll make someone else feel nicer, too, and so on and so on, like that old shampoo commercial. Pretty soon it’ll catch on like the swine flu and become an epidemic! (And, no, I haven’t been dipping into the loaded eggnog–yet–but that does sound mighty, um, nice!)

Excuse My Manners (or Lack Thereof)

/in /by

by Susan McBride

I don’t claim to be an expert on etiquette. Everyone in my family has probably caught me talking with my mouth full once too often (although I try not to, really!). My Midwestern mother worked hard to instill a sense of etiquette in me, and I can still quote the infamous ditty about “Mabel.” If you’re unfamiliar, it goes like this: “Mabel, Mabel, if you’re able, get your elbows off the table.” I can’t imagine asking for anyone to pass the pepper without prefacing the request with a “please.” No, I was never sent for lessons in How to Use the Proper Fork like my debutantes in THE DEBS, or even to Little Miss Manners classes like Andy Kendricks, the debutante dropout in my mysteries. But I do know that one’s bread dish should be placed on the left and one’s drink on the right (something I remember by making a “b” and a “d” with the thumbs and fingers of each hand, a trick learned long ago).

I realize that everything I need to know about etiquette I learned in kindergarten, or at least by grade school. The basics my mother taught me way back when still seem to apply pretty well to almost everything I do, like these golden oldies:

**Don’t wipe your nose on your sleeve (er, unless you can’t find a Kleenex and the hem of the tablecloth won’t reach that high).
**Don’t blow your nose in public (particularly if you honk like an elephant).
**Don’t put peas up your nose (hmm, I’m noticing a recurrent “nose” theme).
**Don’t swallow your gum, or it takes seven years to digest (I believe Wrigley’s did a study on this using the Doublemint Twins as guinea pigs, God rest their twisted intestines).
**Always wear clean underwear, because you never know when you may be in an accident (hence, my request for Victoria’s Secret gift cards last Christmas).
**Don’t run with scissors (though it did work for Augustine Burroughs, didn’t it?).
**Never sit with your knees apart (someone should tell Britney Spears about that one).

For the most part, these are excellent rules, and I break them only in extreme cases (say, if I can’t find a Kleenex). As a published author of 10 years who tries to be as well-mannered as possible, I’ve developed my own set of “Road Rules” for promoting books which I’m happy to share. Granted, I’m no Letitia Baldridge or Emily Post. More like Marge Simpson (whose directness I admire). If my pearls of wisdom seem obvious–or odd–well, it was late when I wrote this and my nightly cocktail of chamomile tea and Benadryl had already started to kick in, so cut me some slack.

**Cleanliness is next to Godliness. I don’t know how often the Man Upstairs (or Goddess Upstairs) showers, but I’ll bet it’s everyday, and almost certainly before a book signing. I can’t guarantee that smelling like Irish Spring will draw the buying hordes, but it makes a far better impression than reeking like unwashed gym socks.

*Be polite to fellow airport dwellers during travel delays. I figure it’s okay to talk to these strangers, as the people at your gate have already been prescreened to some extent. If they’re allowed to fly, you know they’re not on the terrorist watch list, and they’re not packing lighters, bottles with more than 3 ounces of fluid, or other weapons of mass destruction in their carry-on bags. And you never know whose conversation will become fodder for your writing some day. A layover in the Columbia, SC, airport years ago allowed me time to chat with an author from Mississippi who happened to be on her town’s debutante selection committee. Without her, I never would have heard the terms “debu-tank” and “debu-trash,” which I promptly stole for my DEBS series about Houston debutantes. See what I mean!

**Never rearrange a bookseller’s display to more prominently showcase your titles, unless you’ve got Nate the Decorator from “Oprah” with you and he’s re-doing the space on Ms. Winfrey’s dime. I know, I know…word on the street is that turning your covers face-out at every opportunity is mandatory. But it’s more polite to approach the bookseller and offer to sign any available stock (upon which “autographed” stickers will promptly be slapped), practically guaranteeing that your books will be turned cover-out or even moved to more expensive real estate, like an end-cap. Think about it: when booksellers visit your home, they aren’t allowed to rearrange your furniture. So fair’s fair.

**Always say “thank you” any time that people have gone out of their way to help you. If you don’t like writing notes on monogrammed stationery then a gracious email will suffice. Like my great aunt Gertrude always said, “A thank you is worth a thousand peas up your nose, so long as your legs are crossed and you’re wearing clean underwear.” That Gertie was a wise woman.

P.S. Thanks again to the fabulous ladies of the Stiletto Gang for inviting me to join their ranks. I look forward to posting the first Friday of the month from now on. And I promise to be on my best behavior or you can tattle to my mother.