"And also" is the key to appreciating the little things in life

I blogged previously about the idea of "and also", which helps reconcile the fact that we live in a complex and imperfect world. 

 

I'm also finding lately that "and also" makes the idea of living in the moment/looking on the bright side/appreciating the little things in life more palatable.

 

For most of my life, the conventional wisdom I've received has been "Yeah, the world is on fire. But look on the bright side - we have delicious peaches!"

Which makes no sense whatsoever! The fact that it's peach season cannot possibly mitigate the fact that the world is on fire!

But consider: "The world is on fire. And also, we have delicious peaches."

Clearly, the sensible thing to do is eat and savour the peaches!

It doesn't claim to fix, mitigate, or outweigh the problem. It is simply another thing, separate from the problem, that comes with a logical course of action.

 

Some days, that makes it easier to get through the day.

"Good morning" is the email salutation you're looking for

Dear Miss Manners: Or should I say “Hi, Miss Manners!”?

I have noticed that all email, and lots of snail letters, even business ones, start with “Hi” instead of “Dear.” I don’t like it, especially from strangers or when it concerns business. But if I continue to write “Dear,” will people think I am sending them love letters?

Or spam. Miss Manners has noticed that spammers have adopted versions of “Dear one” as a salutation, sometimes ratcheting it up to “Beloved.”

They, too, seem to be interpreting it as ingratiating affection, rather than a neutral convention.

Miss Manners is not quite ready to let go of the conventional “Dear” salutation, and agrees with you that “Hi!” seems cheeky. But she is open to ideas if anyone can think of something simple and dignified.

 

The answer Miss Manners and her correspondent are looking for is "Good morning" (or "Good afternoon" or "Good evening"). 

It is simultaneously formal enough (you could totally say "Good morning" to the Queen) and informal enough (you could totally say it in any casual verbal conversation). 

It doesn't have any connotations of affection, or of any emotion stronger than "polite greeting".

For some audiences, acknowledging the time of day can do the same general type of interpersonal work as "How was your weekend?"-type small talk, so it might add a soupçon of warmth to the interaction.

And, at the same time, it comes across as so utterly neutral that your correspondent is almost certainly not going to give it any thought, instead moving right on to the business of the email, which is what you want them to be doing in the first place!

The generic "you" is a useful tool for writing inclusively

With reproductive health in the news lately, I'm seeing a lot of people diligently endeavouring to make their statements about bodies and anatomy as inclusive as possible, including inclusive of trans and non-binary people. This leads to phrases like "birthing parent" and "uterus-havers", which sound awkward, and can make the cause of inclusive language seem less credible to people who aren't already on side.

 

This makes me think of the 90s, when adults around me would often express contempt for inclusive language by performatively making it conspicuously unwieldy. "Firemen? No, wait, that isn't politically correct...firewomen? Firepeople??" Making a big noisy fuss of how inclusive language is OMG SO HARD while completely disregarding the perfectly cromulent word "firefighters". 

I think the attempts to use inclusive language for reproductive health might sometimes come across this way. 

 

In the specific case of recent inclusive reproductive health discourse, I can tell that the speakers' intentions are benign and they genuinely want to be inclusive. Sometimes they're deliberately aiming for conspicuousness, but sometimes they can't think of a less awkward way to phrase it, and the awkwardness might distract from or detract from their important point.

 

In these situations, where you want to be inclusive but can't think of a simple way to do so, a useful tool can be the generic "you".

 

Example:

Original: "Masks are mandatory in our birth centre. Mothers can remove their masks while in labour."

Attempt to make it inclusive: "Masks are mandatory in our birth centre. Birthing parents can remove their masks while in labour."

With the generic "you": "Mask are mandatory in our birth centre. You can remove your mask while you are in labour."

This is clear. It's inconspicuous. And it's inclusive - by which I mean not just that it includes anyone who might be in labour and while not being a woman or a mother, but also it specifically includes the reader (and, thereby, includes everyone). 

 

One objection to gender-inclusive language that I hear, most often from cis women, is that they feel that excluded when women are not specifically mentioned. Using the generic "you" helps mitigate this by addressing the reader directly. How could you feel excluded if I'm talking directly to you?

 

Of course, there are cases where the right communication strategy is to be conspicuously inclusive, even if the phrasing is awkward. Sometimes the situation does in fact call for a big showy show of the fact that not everyone who gives birth is a woman.

And sometimes the right communication strategy is to be inconspicuously inclusive, to make it no big deal that someone who is not a woman might be giving birth. The generic "you" can help you do that.

Magic words: "and also"

We live in a complex and imperfect world. This sometimes results in having complex and imperfect thoughts, feelings and opinions that aren't absolutely consistent with each other, and sometimes means we have to make imperfect decisions.

But when we talk about these things, it can sometimes come out sounding like we're justifying or excusing our imperfections, when in fact what we're trying to do is simply state that they exist.

In these situations, a useful little phrase is "and also". 

Compare:

 

1. "Amazon's labour conditions are appalling, but they're the only place I can find that sells this very specific item I need."

2. "Amazon's labour conditions are appalling, and also they're the only place I can find that sells this very specific item I need."

 

Example 1 could come across as defending or justifying or excusing their labour conditions, whereas Example 2 doesn't really do that. It more acknowledges the tension of the situation, without presuming to give a definitive resolution.

More examples:

- "That big strange dog that ran up and jumped on me was really poorly trained, and also that was the best thing that happened to me all week!"

- "Monty Python's Argument Clinic sketch is a work of genius, and also Monty Python's Chinese Embassy sketch is appallingly racist."

- "I'm glad they're keeping safe by taking more precautions than are required by government policy, and also I'm disappointed that I won't get to meet the baby any time soon."

 

Both things can be true. We contain multitudes. We don't have to decide. We can acknowledge it and sit with it. 

"And also" helps us do that.

An alternative to "I'm sorry" is "My condolences"

Dear Miss Manners: I am a reasonably empathetic person. I’m not a sob sister, but I do feel true sympathy for other people’s misfortunes. But I have reached my limit.

If someone tells me that a family member has died, and I respond with an “I'm sorry,” the rejoinder is often, “Not your fault.” If a friend mentions her recently broken bone, her divorce, her speeding ticket or broken fingernail, I obviously say that I am sorry. Again, the response is, “Not your fault.”

I agree that I was not the cause of any of the aforementioned disasters; I was not indicating my guilt. I am certainly old enough to say “You have my sympathy,” but I am not formal enough to pull it off. “I see” seems heartless. “Imagine!” seems cruel. “That is so sad” sounds sarcastic.

In this age of online trolls, rudeness passing as humor, and constant hate speech by politicos, what does one say to show empathy with a friend’s or acquaintance’s tale of woe, discomfort or loss? I need an appropriate response or I’m going to start saying “huh.”

A response that would meet the letter-writer's needs is: "My condolences." 

You can make it more formal or intensive (e.g. "My most heartfelt condolences to you and your family") or just leave it as it is, depending on what's most suitable to the context. 

You can also use "My condolences" as a wry response for things like speeding tickets or broken nails, but if you want a more sincere response, and option is "Oh no!", with the same tone and delivery you'd use if the next thing coming out of your mouth was "I'm so sorry!"

I agree with Miss Manners and with LW that "I'm sorry" is perfectly appropriate, but apparently this standard script leads the people around LW to respond in a way that LW dislikes, so it's time to change up the script. I am surprised that Miss Manners didn't suggest this phrasing in her response.

Another option for Captain Awkward #1352

Captain Awkward #1352:

Dear Captain Awkward,

I (they/them) am single, live alone, and have been working from home throughout the COVID situation – the long-term isolation has been really hard. During the last year I took up fishkeeping, which has been really great for my mental health.

But then I developed something known in the hobby as “MTS” – multiple tank syndrome – in which I, well, started to go a little overboard with new fish tanks and fishes. In addition to the assortment of tanks in my actual apartment (basically one in every room, each with different types of fish), I set up a “balcony tub” with floating plants and rosy red minnows.

Last week new neighbors moved into my building and I guess they must have seen my balcony tub because they asked if I had fish on my balcony and…I truly am not sure why…but I impulsively lied, like, “No! Of course I don’t have fish on the balcony! Ha ha ha…”

But the thing is: I do have fish on the balcony.

The fish are very healthy and happy and I don’t think it’s against the rules (I did check the lease) – although that might be because no one ever thought to make a rule against it…

Anyway, I have no idea why I lied other than like…maybe the built-up isolation of the last year and a half, and some internal sense that keeping fish on your balcony was Too Much, and therefore in order to not seem Super Weird to my new neighbors I should keep that under wraps? (Don’t ask, don’t shell!)

But now I feel even *more* awkward and way weirder than if I’d just been like “oh yeah those are my minnows!”

I lied about having fish on the balcony, and I clearly do have fish on the balcony.

In the past I’ve had good relationships with my neighbors. Is there any way I can salvage this truly awkward introduction??

Thank you in advance for your advice. I don’t think this question has been addressed before.

All best,
A Fishy Neighbor

 

As Captain Awkward points out in her answer, there's a strong likelihood that the neighbour has already forgotten or written off the interaction.

Also as Captain Awkward says:

Fortunately,  “I was trying so hard not to come off as weird that I overcorrected and did something objectively weird”  is an extremely relatable and common predicament, and being able to laugh at yourself (“I didn’t want you to think I was obsessed with fish, good job, me, now you think I’m a liar who is obsessed with fish! Welcome to the building!)  is the best remedy I know.

In this vein of a relatable and common predicament and being able to laugh at oneself, another option, if someone should directly inquire about the fact that you specifically said you don't have fish even though you clearly have fish, is something along the lines of "Sorry, it was an attempt at a joke that clearly didn't work. My alleged sense of humour misfires more often than I'd care to admit!"

(Q: What is the attempted joke? A: The very notion that your fishy self would not have fish on the balcony is laughable!)

Benefits to this approach:

• You aren't admitting to lying, or mentioning that you lied as if it's no big deal. Some people are extremely prescriptivist about lying and think that if someone lies at all ever, they're intrinsically untrustworthy. There are also people who are wary enough of lying that they'd see "I told a lie because I panicked" as a red flag suggesting that you're untrustworthy. 
• Having a joke misfire is also a relatable and common predicament
• When assholes make a joke that misfires, they tend to double down and/or blame the audience for not getting/liking the joke. In contrast, admitting that your joke misfired - and that your sense of humour doesn't do the job as often as you'd like in general - is a sign of humility and strength of character. Wouldn't you think positively of someone who genially admits that their joke didn't land and moves on?
  

Magic Words: "or . . . ?"

A thing that exists in the world: well-intentioned people who have innocent questions that they want to ask for a good reason.

 

Another thing that exists in the world: assholes who are cruel and malicious under the guise of asking innocent questions for a good reason.

If you're a well-intentioned person who has a good reason for asking an innocent question of the sort that cruel, malicious assholes might weaponize, you can often disarm your question with one simple conjunction: "or".

Scenario:

Cousin Dorothy has just announced her engagement! Congratulations, Dorothy!

Traditionally, you've been invited to your cousins' weddings, but you know that event planning isn't exactly Dorothy's thing, so she might have a smaller wedding that doesn't go as far as inviting the cousins. (After all, if you invite one cousin you have to invite them all, and there are just so many cousins!)

 

You happen to own a wedding-appropriate dress, but it has long sleeves. You'd get overheated if you wore it in the summer. 

 

So you want to find out when Dorothy's wedding is going to be, without being seen to presume that you'll be invited.

 

Normally, this could be achieved with a simple small-talk question: "So have you set a date yet?"

 

The problem is your family also includes Auntie Em. Auntie Em is very vocally judgmental about many things, and one of the things she's vocally judgmental about is "you're only engaged if you have a wedding date set."

So if you were to ask "Have you set a date yet?" you could come across as being judgmental like Auntie Em, as though you're setting up to gotcha Dorothy for not having a date set yet.

You can avoid giving this impression with one simple word: "or . . . ?"

Instead of simply asking the question that might come across as judgmental, add at least one alternative, and deliver them verbally with a rising and trailing "or".

"So have you set a date yet? Or are you just enjoying being engaged? Or . . . ?"

 

Presenting a perfectly reasonable alternative that is no less positive creates the impression that you think it's perfectly valid not to have set a date. You're making it clearer that you're not being judgmental like Auntie Em.

The function of the final "Or . . . ?" is, explicitly, to avoid setting up a false binary (assholes like Auntie Em often set up false binaries as gotchas) and, implicitly, to make it clearer that you understand there are a wide range of situations in life and you're open to whatever they might say here in response.

The final "Or . . . ?" also help with tone. Sometimes, the tone and delivery of "A or B?" can come out as judgey. (Imagine the tone that would be used for "Want a cup of tea? Or do you think you're too good for tea?") Ending with a rising and trailing "Or . . . ?" reduces the risk of producing this tone.

Some other examples:

Compare asking your host "Do you want me to make the bed?" vs. "Do you want me to make the bed? Or strip the bed? Or . . . ?" With the second option, you're acknowledging that different options are convenient for different people and you're absolutely open to doing whatever is most convenient.

Compare asking your boss "What do you want me to do if Important Client comes in while you're in the meeting?" vs. "If Important Client comes in while you're in the meeting, do you want me to come get you? Or take care of them myself? Or . . . ?" You recognize that there are nuances, you've taken the initiative of thinking of a couple of ideas yourself rather than making your boss come up with solutions, you're showing that you're open and amenable to doing whatever your boss thinks best.

At this point, some people might be thinking "Instead of all this strategic conjunction use, why not just be direct and ask Dorothy whether you'll need a summer dress for her wedding?"

And sometimes you can do that! In which case, you don't need me! Go forth and say whatever you want!

But sometimes that causes interpersonal problems. And, in these cases, you can often smooth things over with the judicious application of one simple word: "or . . . ?"

Magic Words: "human being"

I've discovered a neat trick: you can intensify any sentence by replacing "person" (and similar synonyms) with "human being".

 

Compare: "I haven't hugged another person since before the pandemic" vs. "I haven't hugged another human being since before the pandemic."

The second one sounds a lot more dire, doesn't it?

Compare: "You used straight apostrophes in last month's newsletter and smart apostrophes in this month's newsletter. But no one else is going to notice." vs. "You used straight apostrophes in last month's newsletter and smart apostrophes in this month's newsletter. But no other human being is going to notice."

 

The likelihood of being noticed sounds a lot lower in the second one, doesn't it? (Even though, if you're really pedantic about it, "no other human being" is narrower in scope - "no one" could plausibly include dogs and aliens and AI.)

 

I love things like this, where minor changes in wording have clearly discernable changes in connotation, even though no one can explain why no human being can explain why!