Monday, October 02, 2023
"And also" is the key to appreciating the little things in life
Sunday, November 13, 2022
"Good morning" is the email salutation you're looking for
Dear Miss Manners: Or should I say “Hi, Miss Manners!”?
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!
Saturday, May 28, 2022
The generic "you" is a useful tool for writing inclusively
Tuesday, March 15, 2022
Magic words: "and also"
Monday, January 17, 2022
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.
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.
Monday, November 01, 2021
Another option for 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
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?