|
On manners
Columbine sincerely hopes that you will forgive her, but she finds that she can no longer in good conscience refrain from discussing a delicate issue.
That issue is one of manners.
Columbine is, of course, aware that manners have acquired something of an unfashionable aura; nonetheless, she feels compelled to present the case in their favor, at the risk of sounding somewhat unfashionable herself. Such are her sympathies.
Sorry about that; I've been reading Miss Manners, and it does tend to rub off on me.
As I say, manners are out of style these days. The usual case against them is that they promote insincerity, removing the ability of people to speak their minds frankly and honestly, leaving others to guess what the person really meant.
Nowadays I grit my teeth when I hear people railing against manners (although I never grit my teeth where I can be seen doing it, of course, because it's extremely rude to imply that you think someone's being a damned fool).
But as recently as a few years ago, I would have tended to agree with them. I felt polite elocution was a mechanism of insincerity. Why, I asked, can't we just be adults, less thin-skinned, able to give and hear opinions with the knowledge that no noses will get out of joint?
I based this on the fact that I personally am difficult to offend. You can criticize my work and I will say, "That's interesting," and scan your comments for useful bits. You can criticize me personally and I will either admit I am guilty of that fault, or ignore your complaint. Either way, I will lose very little sleep over your remarks.
I've learned, though, that even among the thick-skinned there is a use for courtesy. And I've also learned that while you may not wound me with rudeness, my opinion of you is somewhat changed by it.
This turns out to be very important.
Over the past few months, I've noticed an interesting phenomenon at work. When bugs come my way, I always acknowledge them - a simple message which says, "Thank you for calling this to our attention, we're looking into it," et cetera. I send people progress reports when I believe they have an interest in knowing what work is being done. When someone asks for help, and I have to tell them what they're doing wrong, I do so as gently as I can.
This is new and radical stuff for the customers!
Our department - which has been, among other things, the voice of computer support for the Institvte for many years - has a reputation for being intractable, unapproachable, unhelpful, and downright rude. Which is, frankly, a hell of a way to run an organization that does that much user assistance. I am getting compliments from people for my helpfulness and graciousness, when what I am doing strikes me as the bare minimum acceptable level of feedback. In short, I don't think I'm being all that polite, but by the standards of what they're used to getting from our department, it's amazing.
And are my co-workers incredibly rude? Not exactly. What they are is blunt. They communicate very little with those who are not in their circle of peers, and when they do talk to the outside world, it is likely to be quite terse. They have little patience with non-hackers. They tend to state information in a way which implies that you're a fool for not already knowing it. And I don't believe they're aware of what a hostile image they're sending the world.
The dilemma of manners is that there is no polite way for me to explain all this to them.
I believe in giving opinions - when asked. And I do believe that politeness is sometimes an obstacle to forward progress, like when manners declare that the host and hostess must say, "Oh, no, do stay a while longer," when what they really mean is, "We're tired now, please go home." That situation really has no good resolution; politeness does not make it more bearable, nor does it teach the guests what they should have known in the first place (how to not outstay one's welcome). It only helps make it more likely that the hosts and guests will still be speaking to each other the next day.
Politeness is grease for the long view. It does sometimes impede honesty, but it helps ensure that you will have a long enough acquaintance with the other party that you may one day reach a point where you can safely speak your mind with that person. I agree that it's tempting to start with full, blunt disclosure ... but in many circumstances it's better to work up to that gradually.
Besides, in a universe with the likes of Jerry Springer, it seems as if our social interactions have a bit too much honesty as is.
© Columbine
|
Even if it be proven that the mistakes of others come from gross ignorance or from maliciousness, it is not the place of anyone except God, their mothers, or Miss Manners to bring this to their attention. As dear Erasmus said, "It is part of the highest civility if, while never erring yourself, you ignore the errors of others."
Miss Manners prefers to believe that everyone means well, and that if anyone seems to be doing something wrong, it is probably not from intent but from forgetfulness, busyness, absence of mind, or illness. Miss Manners may be mistaken in this now and again, but she leads a happier life for believing it.
- Judith Martin
from Miss Manners' Guide to Excruciatingly Correct Behavior
|
