"No smoking, no drinking, and no cussing." That was the first advice I can remember as a boy. Then, I learned the Ten Commandments. Still, the best advice I ever received was to "NEVER discuss religion, politics or the proper way to raise children." (Only your spouse should know such intimate things about you.)
While attending Infantry Officer Candidate School, I recall a three-hour class on etiquette, one morning shortly before graduation, learning the importance of standing when a lady approaches, opening the door for her, and helping her with her chair. When working at SunTrust, I attended another three-hour class on etiquette, re-learning that civilized people will delay eating until everybody at your table has been served and to ALWAYS keep elbows off the table. When working at Bank of America, I attended yet another three-hour class on table manners, re-learning the proper way to place eating utensils on the plates, when finished eating (tips down, blade away, at 45 degree angle) and the importance of thank-note notes.
No, I don't why etiquette training always comes in three hour bites, but my wife wonders why I needed more bites of such training than most people, suggesting some inner-barbarian that badly needed it.
Now, I wonder if the purpose of all that training was simply to avoid friction with other people. If friction slows things down, does that mean it will be easier/faster to get through life, if one is well-mannered and therefore has less friction with others? Is that a good thing?
I think of all the good and decent people I know. Do I need friction-protection from them? I think of all the other old soreheads I know. Friction with them is a good thing, a badge of honor, isn't it? Or, is it? Who is etiquette for, anyway?
The classic existential book by Samuel Beckett called Waiting for Godot contains the memorable line that "Hell is other people." He begs the question of whether Hell is in Death . . . or in Life. That question is obviously above my pay grade, but etiquette training might be helpful in both places? Therefore, I guess that etiquette is for everybody?
But, I still like enjoy my inner-barbarian . . . and yours, too!
While attending Infantry Officer Candidate School, I recall a three-hour class on etiquette, one morning shortly before graduation, learning the importance of standing when a lady approaches, opening the door for her, and helping her with her chair. When working at SunTrust, I attended another three-hour class on etiquette, re-learning that civilized people will delay eating until everybody at your table has been served and to ALWAYS keep elbows off the table. When working at Bank of America, I attended yet another three-hour class on table manners, re-learning the proper way to place eating utensils on the plates, when finished eating (tips down, blade away, at 45 degree angle) and the importance of thank-note notes.
No, I don't why etiquette training always comes in three hour bites, but my wife wonders why I needed more bites of such training than most people, suggesting some inner-barbarian that badly needed it.
Now, I wonder if the purpose of all that training was simply to avoid friction with other people. If friction slows things down, does that mean it will be easier/faster to get through life, if one is well-mannered and therefore has less friction with others? Is that a good thing?
I think of all the good and decent people I know. Do I need friction-protection from them? I think of all the other old soreheads I know. Friction with them is a good thing, a badge of honor, isn't it? Or, is it? Who is etiquette for, anyway?
The classic existential book by Samuel Beckett called Waiting for Godot contains the memorable line that "Hell is other people." He begs the question of whether Hell is in Death . . . or in Life. That question is obviously above my pay grade, but etiquette training might be helpful in both places? Therefore, I guess that etiquette is for everybody?
But, I still like enjoy my inner-barbarian . . . and yours, too!
