Reggie's Rules for Calling Someone on the Telephone

The other evening I attended a large cocktail party where I ran into a former colleague, JL.  I like JL and enjoy speaking with him whenever I have the pleasure of seeing him, which is at least several times a year.

A reasonable reaction upon answering the telephone
and being confronted by a rude caller

We fell into a conversation that eventually turned to the topic of the sorry state of manners in today's world, and our shared belief that telephone manners, in particular, had reached a new low.  As an example, JL recounted a telephone conversation he had at home one recent evening:

Telephone:  Ring-ring-ring

JL:  Hello?

Caller:  Is Bobby there?

JL:  May I ask who's calling, please?

Caller:  Peter

JL:  Peter who?

Caller:  Peter Porterhouse

JL:  Oh, hello Peter, this is Bobby's father.  How are you?

Caller:  Okay

JL:  I'm sorry, but Bobby isn't available right now.  May I take a message for him?

Caller:  No, I'll try him later.

JL:  Okay, thanks Peter.  Nice speaking with you.

Caller:  Yeah

JL:  Goodbye Peter

CLICK

JL was particularly irritated by this exchange because he knew Peter Porterhouse, one of his son's friends and a regular visitor at JL's house.  We both agreed that Peter was a boor, but since he was still relatively young—a teenager—we agreed that it wasn't necessarily his fault but rather that of his parents, who raised him to be an ill-mannered oaf, without (for starters) instilling in him basic good telephone manners.

I then related a telephone conversation I had one recent weekend afternoon, where the caller was even ruder:

Telephone:  Ring-ring-ring

RD:  Hello?

Caller:  Who is this?

RD:  Excuse me?

Caller:  Who is this?

RD:  What do you mean, "Who is this?" Who's calling, please?

Caller:  [pause] . . . uh . . . this is Sandra

RD:  Sandra who?  Who are you calling?

Caller:  Where's Mike?

RD:  I believe you have the wrong number.

CLICK

Even though this was obviously a wrong number, I found this call particularly annoying because the caller who initiated the call did so by asking me who I was, rather than identifying herself to me first, and then hung up on me when I informed her that she had dialed the wrong number, without any acknowledgment or apology.

Dear Reader, I share these two conversations with you as prime examples of callers who clearly did not appreciate, or had not been properly trained in, the rudimentary rules required when initiating a telephone call.

In my view, these rules are:

Rule Number 1:  When making a telephone call you must always begin the call by identifying yourself to the person who answers the phone.  Unless you recognize his/her voice and are on first-name basis with him/her and speak with him/her regularly, and are confident that he/she will immediately recognize who it is that is calling him/her, then you must identify yourself by stating your full name, including both your first and last names, such as "Hello, this is Reggie Darling.  I'm calling to speak with Emily Toplofty.  Is she there, please?"

Rule Number 2:  Never initiate a telephone conversation by asking, "Who is this?"  You may only seek to learn the identity of the person who has answered the telephone after you have identified yourself first.  The proper way to do so is to ask, "With whom am I speaking, please?"

Rule Number 3:  If you have dialed the wrong number, it is incumbent upon you to say, "Excuse me, I believe I've dialed the wrong number." You may thus politely terminate the phone call.

Rule Number 4:  When the person who has answered the telephone identifies herself to you as someone other than the person you are seeking to speak with, you must respond with a polite acknowledgement, such as "Oh, hello Mrs. Toplofty, I hope you are well."

Rule Number 5:  Always end a telephone conversation with some form of closing salutation, such as "Goodbye," or "Talk to you soon," or "Thank you."  Never simply hang up the telephone without closing out the conversation first.

In summary, I believe it is the responsibility of the person initiating a phone call to inform the person answering the telephone of their identity and the purpose for the call.  The caller should also be prepared to engage in a brief exchange of pleasantries, as a matter of courtesy, with the person on the other end of the line.  Finally, the caller should always conclude the call with some form of acknowledgement that the call has been completed by both the caller and the person with whom they have spoken.

These are the rules I follow when I call someone on the telephone, and I believe every other civilized person should too.  I'm heartened to know that I am not alone in believing this, given my former colleague JL's emphatic agreement.

Tell me, what do you think?


Photograph courtesy of LIFE Images

Use a Handkerchief, Please!

Reggie would like to bring something to your attention, Dear Reader.

He thinks you should use a handkerchief.  No, he is not referring to what is rather euphemistically known as "facial tissue," such as Kleenex™, but rather to an old-fashioned cloth handkerchief, the kind your grandparents used.  Well, at least Reggie's grandparents used . . .

Reggie carries a handkerchief with him most of the time, and he finds it most useful to have one with him.  In fact, he cannot understand why the regular use of handkerchiefs has become something of a rarity in our society today.  Even amongst polite people.

A baker's dozen of white cotton handkerchiefs,
recently purchased at Brooks Brothers

In order to qualify for Reggie's approval, handkerchiefs needn't be white, they needn't be expensive, nor must they be monogrammed or edged with lace.  A plain, inexpensive cotton one with stitched edges will do very nicely, thank you.  If one prefers not to carry a white handkerchief (unlike Reggie, who does, at least most of the time), one can find handkerchiefs in any number of appealing colors, including solids, patterns, and prints.  A diminutive colorful bandana is perfectly suited (and sometimes preferred) to be used as a handkerchief when one is feeling in a country mood.

Just carry a handkerchief, please.

Reggie has heard many people say they would never use a handkerchief, as they consider carrying one filled with snot to be disgusting.  Well, Reggie agrees, a handkerchief filled with snot is disgusting.  But he is not suggesting that you do that, Dear Reader.  If one has a horrible cold, producing a lava flow of mucous, Reggie believes one has no business being out in public but rather should be at home in bed, attending to such matters privately.

No, he is advocating that his readers carry a handkerchief with them when out and about, because he finds one to be a remarkably convenient and versatile accessory when he is out in public, away from the niceties and hygenic pleasures of his home.

While Reggie uses the handkerchiefs he carries to occasionally blow his nose or sneeze into, tasks for which they are admirably suited, he finds handkerchiefs to be far more versatile than merely being a receptacle for one's nasal effluvia.

When one is out on a hot summer's afternoon, a handkerchief is the perfect choice to mop one's sometimes sweaty brow, and a far preferable choice for doing so than using one's sleeve, a degraded practice he has seen engaged in by certain baser sorts in public during the warmer months.

A handkerchief is a most useful protection, too, when used to grasp something when one is in public that one doesn't particularly care to touch with one's naked hand, such as a grimy subway strap handle, or the knob of a door leading into a heavily used gas station restroom.

And Reggie far prefers to use a handkerchief when he is overcome by the sudden need to sneeze, which he frequently is in public, as opposed to using his bare hands, or the more recently advocated practice of using the crook of one's elbow instead of one's hands.  He is not so sure that this development is an improvement on the former.  But he is more than confident that neither of these options are an improvement over using a handkerchief.

Now some people might ask, "But Reggie, why use a handkerchief when a Kleenex™ (or similar) will do?"  Because, Dear Reader, a handkerchief is sturdier  than a Kleenex™, it doesn't rip apart, and it doesn't pill, all of which said Kleenex™ does.  Also, if one inadvertently leave's one's handkerchief in the pocket of one's trousers, one is not then confronted with a disintegrated, wadded mess of what once was a piece of Kleenex™ when one reaches one's hand into such trousers after they have been laundered.

Others might also say, "But Reggie, don't you find carrying a used handkerchief to be rather unpleasant?"  Well, Dear Reader, it is all a matter of degree.  Just as I change my undergarments daily, so do I replace the handkerchiefs I use each day, so I can be assured of having a fresh one at hand.  That is, after all, why one does laundry (or if one is very fortunate, that is why one has one's laundry done).

But I do carry a handkerchief, and I do use it, and I think you should too.

Tell me, do you?

Photograph by Boy Fenwick

Please Eat Your Dessert With the Proper Spoon and Fork!

The other evening Boy and I traveled out to Fort Greene, Brooklyn, where we met our friends Jasper Lambert and Francesca Montmore for dinner at a well-regarded neighborhood restaurant, known for its inventive, delicious, locavore fare.  The place had a distinctly hip vibe, and the average patron was probably no older than thirty.  I enjoyed it.

A framed antique map of the Borough of Brooklyn
Image courtesy of Cottage Home

Yes, even though Reggie lives on the UES of Manhattan, he is not so hidebound that he doesn't occasionally venture beyond it when he is out and about in the city.  He has great respect for and enjoys visiting the storied and historic borough of Brooklyn.  He actually lived in Brooklyn in the early 1980s, when he first moved to New York after college and worked in a bank on Wall Street.  But that was back when people of his sort generally could only be found in one or two neighborhoods in that borough, such as Brooklyn Heights, which is where he—not surprisingly—lived at the time.  Since then, Brooklyn has undergone a veritable renaissance, and today it is a thriving and vibrant metropolis full of neighborhoods that one would be delighted to live in.

But today's post is not about Brooklyn.  It is about eating dessert.

Before I get to that, though, I feel I must explain why I use the word "dessert" to describe the sweet consumed at the end of a meal, instead of "pudding," as my English cousins do.  Even though I sometimes prefer to use words favored in England when referring to something known by a different name in America—such as "aubergine" for what is commonly known here as "eggplant"—I simply cannot bring myself to use the word "pudding" for "dessert," at least not with a straight face.  That is because I consider "pudding" to be what I believe the English refer to as "blancmange," which is what I call the sweet, easy-to-eat, milk-based custard so favored by children in nurseries and the elderly in nursing homes.  Blancmange is a type of pudding, but it is not "pudding" in the sense the English use the word, which is to describe what I call "dessert."

Both pudding and dessert, but not "pudding"
Image courtesy of Vintage Disney Alice

Now that I've got that straightened out, I can attend to the subject at hand, which is actually not about eating dessert, but rather about the proper utensils to use when consuming it.

Hold on, there's a logic to this meander . . .

While dining at the restaurant in Brooklyn with our friends, the four of us ordered dessert to finish our meals.  I ordered what was described on the menu as rhubarb bread pudding, but which was actually a rhubarb crisp.  Not that it matters, really, but I like to be specific about these things.  Anyway, the young woman who brought our desserts to the table delivered them with four teaspoons.

As she did so I asked myself, "Why is this girl . . ." (for Reggie is now old enough to consider most women under the age of twenty five to be young enough to merit such a term) " . . . bringing me a teaspoon?  I haven't ordered coffee!"

It then occurred to me that she expected me to consume my rhubarb bread pudding crisp with a teaspoon, and not with a proper dessert spoon.

"Excuse me, miss," I said, "would you please bring me a dessert spoon?"

She looked at me quizzically.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "I just did."

"Well, actually this is a teaspoon, and not a dessert spoon.  A dessert spoon is larger than this.  And while you are at it, would you also please bring me a dessert fork, too?"

"But that," she said pointing to the teaspoon in front of me, "is what we eat dessert with here at the restaurant."

"That may be so," I said, "but I prefer to eat my dessert with a larger spoon.  And I like to eat it with a fork, too.  May I please have them so I may do so?"

She looked at me as if I were a lunatic.

"Oh, all right," she said, and shrugged.

Just as she was turning to go off and fetch what I requested, the other three people at the table piped in, in unison, "Please bring us a spoon and fork as well!"

It turns out I wasn't the only lunatic at our table.

Even though the young miss brought us each the requested spoons, the forks she provided were dinner-sized, and therefore inappropriately large for the task at hand.  But rather than beginning my little routine all over again and asking her to bring me the proper sized fork, I decided to put up and shut up, and use the dinner fork.  After all, I reasoned, I could still use it for the purpose I intended it for.

Reggie's preferred place setting for when the first course is a soup
and the dessert course is a sweet, such as bread pudding.
That is not a teaspoon placed above the mat . . .

Which gave me the idea for this post, which is that most people in this country haven't a clue as to what the proper utensils are to use when consuming food at table.  No, I am not referring to the use of arcane utensils favored by the Victorians at their most extreme, such as the proper fork to use for a particular type of fish, or the proper spoon to use when consuming a jellied consumé versus a creamed soup.  I'm referring to the most basic spoons and forks that one uses when eating a salad, a soup, an entrée, and dessert.

As was made clear by my Brooklyn dining experience, most people today don't understand the intended functions of a teaspoon, a dessert spoon, or a soup spoon.  They don't know the difference between a dinner fork or a dessert fork, either.  And it is not only in the wilds of Brooklyn that one encounters such ignorance.  I've even witnessed it in my own house, when dining at my own table.  You would be surprised at how many of our dinner party guests use the wrong utensils with which we have set our table at Darlington House.  And these guests of ours are not bumpkins—they are educated, worldly, and cultured people, accustomed to attending dinner parties and dining in smart restaurants.

So here's the deal.  A teaspoon's primary purpose is to stir a cup of tea or coffee.  It is not designed to be used to consume food, at least by adults, even though it does an admirable job of delivering modest amounts of food to one's mouth.  A dessert spoon, also known as a tablespoon, is larger than a teaspoon and delivers a more generous (and more pleasing) amount of food—a mouthful—than a teaspoon is capable of administering.  A tablespoon is the primary and most versatile spoon that one uses when consuming food at table.

Eeny, meeny, miny, moe
teaspoon, tablespoon, soup spoon, go!

Although some people use tablespoons to consume soup, and Reggie believes it is acceptable to do so in certain cases (particularly in households where the silverware services are not as extensive as his own), he prefers to consume soup using the larger spoons designed for such purpose, and not a tablespoon.  And it is not simply because he is able to do so, having the necessary spoons at his disposal.  No, it is because he adores soup and he finds using the larger spoon allows him to consume more of it with each mouthful than would be possible with a tablespoon, and certainly far more than would be possible with an unsatisfyingly small teaspoon.

When we set the table at Darlington House for a meal where dessert is provided, we almost always set it with a dessert-sized fork and a dessert spoon to consume the sweet.  The fork is smaller than the one provided to consume the main course of the meal, and the spoon is a tablespoon.  Both are placed above the plate, so their intended use is absolutely clear.  When it comes time to eat the dessert, one holds the fork in one's left hand and the spoon in one's right, and uses them together, as opposed to endlessly exchanging one for the other in one's primary hand (the way many Americans use a knife and fork when cutting into and consuming a piece of meat).

A rather elaborate, and to Reggie rather over-set,
formal place setting diagram
Image courtesy of simplehuman

If you have not eaten dessert using a spoon and fork as I describe here, I encourage you to take it upon yourself to do so.  You will be pleased with how pleasant it is, and how much more you appreciate the pleasure of taking your dessert, as opposed to eating it with just a teaspoon.  Once you become accustomed to consuming your dessert this way, with a spoon and fork, you will marvel at how you ever did it any other way (that is, except when eating fruit or cheese at the end of a meal, which is when you would instead use a fork and knife).

Reggie's preferred place setting for when the first course is a salad
and the dessert course is either fruit or cheese

Oh, and the rhubarb bread pudding crisp that triggered this story?  It was delicious, but it would have benefitted from having a small pitcher jug of crème anglaise available to pour over it, to moisten it.  Now that is one English custom—the pouring of creams and custards over one's pudding dessert—that I have unashamedly adopted as my own.  And I suggest that you do, too.

But, please eat your dessert with the proper spoon and fork!

Tell me, do you?

Photographs, unless noted, by Boy Fenwick

Pick Up the Telephone!

I recently received a telephone call out of the blue from my friend Jock Pardoe.  After speaking with him for a minute or two, I still wasn't quite sure why he had called me, so I asked him.

"I'm calling just to say 'hello,'" he said, "It's been awhile since we spoke, and I was thinking about you.  So I thought I'd pick up the telephone and call you, and check in."

I was really quite flattered and pleased.  We had a lovely conversation, and I enjoyed catching up with Jock, hearing what he was up to and discussing what was going on in our respective lives and with our loved ones.  At the end we made plans to get together soon.  How nice, I thought, as I hung up the phone.  It had been a long time since someone called me up for no reason, except to say "hello."

And it got me thinking . . .

Over the last several years many people I know have pretty much dispensed with using the telephone to communicate, instead relying increasingly on email, texting (the youngs), and more recently Facebook.  It all started out in the workaday world, where email is far more efficient for taking care of routine business than endlessly leaving voicemail messages or speaking on the telephone.  With the advent of the BlackBerry and the iPhone, email very quickly took over in the personal world, too.  It's never been the same since for the poor old telephone.

While I think email is certainly an efficient and convenient means for communicating and sharing basic information, I believe it is no substitute for picking up the telephone and actually speaking with someone.  In fact, I think too many of us rely on email when we really should be picking up the telephone instead.

Now, before you roll your eyes and say, "Reggie, of course you think that way—you're a hopelessly old-fashioned fuddy-duddy!" I ask you to ponder the following:

How many times have you found that you have exchanged ten emails with someone to resolve something that could have been more efficiently taken care of in a single phone call?

How many times have you received a message via email from someone that contained time-sensitive or important information and that you somehow missed in your inbox queue, only to discover it several days later, if at all?

How many times have you received an invitation to a private party that you thought was for some kind of mass-email "event" promotion, and you ignored it, only to learn after the fact that it wasn't?

How many times have you sent (or received) an email where the content was—for whatever reason—misinterpreted by the recipient, where they took what you meant in the wrong way?

How many times have you hit the "send" button and then realized in re-reading what you wrote that it wasn't actually what you meant to say?

More times than you'd think.

In each of these cases, it would have been far preferable to pick up the telephone and call the person you wished to communicate with rather than sending them an email.

When writing and sending emails or texts, you can't always depend that your reader will truly understand what you are saying, or interpret it in the way you intended.  Email is not a nuanced communication tool.  Email is the absolute worst medium to use when communicating a criticism or a complaint, because it can set the recipient off.  Unlike when speaking with someone, in an email you can't determine how your audience has interpreted or reacted to what you have written, until you hear back from them.  That is, assuming they ever email you back.

Boy has a very sound rule that he follows, both in his personal life and in his professional one: never use email to discuss non-routine business, or where the recipient could potentially misconstrue what is being written about.  Only use email for routine communication of information.  If you've got to work something out with another person, then get on the telephone and speak with them.

And he's right.

Another reason one should only use email for routine communication or business is that you can't control who your email will ultimately be forwarded to.  Once an email has been sent it is out there, in the public domain.  How many of us have been forwarded or seen emails (sometimes in the media) that someone else sent that contained embarrassing or less than flattering information about the sender?  I have, and so have you.

Dear Reader, I'm not suggesting that you shouldn't use email.  No, not at all.  What I am encouraging you to do is to use email only for what it is best suited: routine communication.  Do not rely on it as a substitute for picking up the telephone and actually speaking with someone, particularly in those situations I have outlined above.

When emailing your friends and loved ones, ask yourself whether email is the most appropriate, efficient, or politic means of communicating with your audience, or if what you have to say or communicate would be better done over the telephone.  An effective way of determining that is to ask yourself what you would prefer if you were the one being contacted.  Would you rather get a phone call or an email?  I think you will be surprised how many times you decide that speaking with someone on the telephone is preferable to email.

And what about my friend Jock's reason for using the telephone, to call up his friends simply to say "hello"?   I think it is the best reason of all.

And with that, Dear Reader, I rest my case.

Pick up the telephone!

All photographs courtesy of LIFE Images, Martha Holmes photographer

We Really Must Get Together Soon!

Have you ever run into someone you haven't seen in a while or don't know very well and they say, "We should get together soon," or "Let's have a drink sometime," and then you never hear from him or her?

I have.  And it is rather a pet peeve of mine.

"Imagine running into you here on Fifth Avenue!"
"Yes, indeed—we really must get together soon!"

I believe that when one makes such statements, which I consider to be quasi-invitations for further social intercourse, that it obligates the person who says it to follow through and make plans.  Otherwise saying such a thing is disingenuous.

I have been the recipient of such statements often enough and have found it sufficiently irritating when there is no follow-through that instead of responding with something as nebulous as "Yes, that would be nice," I now make the point of saying something along the lines of "That is a great idea, let's put it on the calendar right now.  I'm free on Tuesday and Wednesday evenings next week.  Do either of those two dates work for you?"  This usually elicits a somewhat startled response from the person who has so breezily (sort of) issued the (sort of) quasi-invitation for us to get together.  And it is then that I find out whether they actually meant what they said, or if they thought they were giving me a "let 'em down gently" blowoff because they never intended to follow through with it in the first place.

Despite statements they may make to the contrary,
something tells me these two dames have no intention of
getting together for a friendly drink anytime soon . . .

I recently heard through a mutual acquaintance that some friends of ours, a married couple I have known for decades but who we hadn't seen in almost a year, had said that they missed seeing us and hoped to get together with us again soon.  I found that interesting feedback, for the last several times we had seen them was when they were guests at our house, either at parties or when we had them over for dinner, and we hadn't heard from them since.  In other words, we had only seen them when we had made the effort to invite them to get together with us.  That had happened enough times without a return invitation (or even an acknowledgement of any kind from them after we had entertained them) that I had decided to concentrate our social activities on other, more reciprocating friends (see Reggie's Rules for Social Reciprocity, Part I and Part II).  But when I heard what they said through our mutual friend I decided to swallow my pride and reach out to what I now assumed to be our somewhat socially inept friends to arrange to get together.  So I called their telephone number one weekend afternoon, and this is the conversation that I had:

"Hello, it's Reggie calling."

"Oh, hi Reggie, we were just talking about you and Boy the other day, and how we haven't seen you in ages."

"Well, that's why I'm calling, to see if we can get together.  We'd like to have dinner with the two of you in the city one night.  How does your calendar look over the next few weeks?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, but X [the spouse of the person I was speaking with] isn't here right now, so I can't make any plans since I don't know what his schedule is."

This struck me as rather odd, since Boy and I routinely commit to social engagements without checking with the other first, with the understanding that we will confirm with the person we are making the plans with afterwards.  In any event, I responded with:

"Well, why don't you discuss it with X when he returns and then call me back with some dates that work for the two of you so we can put something on the calendar?"

"Okay, that sounds like a good idea.  I'll call you."

"Great, I look forward to hearing from you soon."

Needless to say, that conversation, which took place this past October, was the last time I spoke with what I thought had once been a friend and is now what I consider to be a former friend.  Unless I hear from them, which I seriously doubt I will, I suspect that I won't be socializing with them again any time soon.

What is it with people?

I believe it is inappropriate to make empty statements like "We should get together soon" or "I'll call you" and then not follow through on it.  Of course Reggie is a big boy, and understands that not everyone out there wants to socialize with him or be his friend.  And that's just fine with him because he doesn't want to get together with everyone he meets, either.  His social life is already active enough as it is, thank you very much.  Regardless, he firmly believes that it is wrong to issue dangling invitations or make empty promises when one has no intention of following through on them.  He makes every effort never to do so, and he thinks you should, too.

And that's a Reggie Rule.


Photographs courtesy of LIFE Images

Reggie's Advice For the Tongue-Tied Guest at Table Amongst Strangers

The other day Reggie received a telephone call from a lady friend.  A charming, game gal with a swell sense of humor and great style, she is at ease and in her element in the elegant drawing and dining rooms of what is left of society, the waters in which she and her dapper husband swim effortlessly.  They are a sought-after couple in the county where Darlington House is situated, where they spend the warmer months of the year in one of the great and important houses.  And they are a fun and interesting addition to any party or dinner table.  I like her, and I always look forward to seeing her when our paths cross.

Whoever did the seating here didn't follow the alternating "boy/girl" rule.
Plus, Reggie thinks those look like electrified candles!

She was quite exasperated when she called me.  "Reggie," she said, "I've got to ask you to write about something on that blog of yours.  Last night I sat a table at yet another benefit, and neither the person on my left nor on my right knew how to talk to me.  It was like pulling teeth just to get them to say anything.  After two inteminable courses of grunts and monosyllabic answers to my questions, and not a single one in return, I finally just got up and left.  I couldn't take it anymore!  Why do these people go to parties if they can't--or won't--at least do their dinner partners' the decency of talking to them?  Would you please write about this on your blog?  I think your readers would be interested to know what you have to say about this."

Lots of good conversation going on here, but whose hand is that
holding the cigarette on the bottom left?

Of course Reggie was rather flattered that such a lady as my caller would ask his opinion and think that he might even have something to say on this matter.  And since she did, he does.  For this is a subject that Reggie has given considerable thought to over the years.  Namely, how does one navigate the waters of social intercourse when one finds oneself at a table, adrift amongst a sea of strangers?  And, in particular, what does one talk about under such circumstances?

The answer is it is remarkably easy to start the juices of dinner party table conversation running, Dear Reader, and then keep them flowing for as long as one is at table.  It really only requires the most minimal of effort.  To start the conversation one need do nothing more than be a good asker of questions, and a good listener.  And then once the conversation has begun, it is easy to keep one's dinner partners engaged in pleasant banter throughout the meal by volunteering bits and pieces of information and one's opinions in response to one's dinner partners' comments, all with the goal of eliciting additional pleasant conversation for the duration of the meal.  But like many simple things, Reggie believes that achieving success at such intercourse requires effort, practice, and a willing audience.  Just as it takes a chef years to master turning out a perfectly roasted chicken every time he is asked to do so, it takes practice to become a good party conversationalist under all circumstances.

Nice, but couldn't they have rented some decent ballroom chairs?

For when one accepts an invitation to a party, whether large or small, private or public, one enters into a contract to perform at said party appropriately.  And that means playing ball with the other guests.  No, not literally--unless the party is a tennis round robin--but figuratively, where the game played is one of wit and verbal volley.  And that means keeping the conversation going.  Just as many a party is helped along by the flow of spirits, so is it aided by the ready flow of conversation.  And the responsibility of a guest to keep the conversation going is a broad one.  It does not apply only to intimate private parties where the guest list is carefully chosen, and where conversation often runs freely as a result, but it applies also to more public gatherings, such as large benefit dinners, where one can find oneself assigned to sit at a table surrounded by strangers.

But if one is not as facile as Reggie or his lady caller are at instigating and carrying on such conversations (Reggie can converse with a door knob, if required), one shouldn't be content to just sit there quietly, either, waiting for others who are better equipped to do so to start and then keep the conversation going.  One must gather up one's bespoke britches and stride forth into the conversational maelstrom, leaving one's cautions and inhibitions behind to gather dust amongst the wreckage of dinner parties past.  For a dinner party--and I'm including benefits here, too--without conversation at table is a wreck of an evening, indeed.

Ah, the days of cigarettes at table . . .
An otherwise perfect dinner marred by those nasty folding chairs again

To address the very serious shortfall in the understanding of those who drove my lady caller to distraction, Reggie has come up with a set of pointers and suggestions for the tongue-tied party guest to grease the wheels of conversation when he (or she) finds himself sitting at a dinner table amongst strangers.  The employment of these conversational gambits, I might add, Dear Reader, will ensure that said guest will soon find himself (or herself) at the happy center of a freewheeling and enjoyable conversation that can last the better part of an evening, and certainly through at least the several courses required in a sit down dinner.

Success in these matters requires but that you ask any of these seven questions, either individually or serially:

• Tell me, how do you know the host and hostess?
• Are you affiliated with this charity/organization/worthy cause?  Do you support its work?  If so, in what way?
• That's a lovely brooch/dress/tiara you are wearing, is there a story behind it?
• Isn't this a lovely night for such a party?  What did you do today leading up to it?
• Do you live here, or are you visiting?  If you do not live here, where are you from?
• Are you here with a group, or are you on your own?
• Isn't this a marvelous band?  Have you heard them before?  Would you like to dance?

Failing all of the above, here is a sure fire way of eliciting a response:

• This party is a goddamn bore, would you like to do some blow?

Reggie is, of course, joking with this suggested last question . . . at least he thinks so.

Well, they thought it was amusing!

All funning aside, and with the exception of the last query, each of these are positive and leading questions that give one's dinner companions the opportunity to open up and volunteer information that can then be the basis for further questioning by the perspicacious listener.  And once your dinner partner's attention has been engaged, and the conversation is flowing, here are six further things to ask or say that ensure its happy continuation:

• Do you really think so?
• And then what happened?
• Really?  How so?
• Do tell me more . . . 
• That's the most interesting thing I've heard all evening!
• How remarkable, what a coincidence . . .

And failing that:

• Would you like to do some more blow?

Wait a minute, that was supposed to be a joke!

That gal on the left would have a better time if she followed Reggie's advice

Anyway, back to the subject at hand.  You will find yourself a popular dining companion, indeed, if you take it upon yourself to engage in polite conversation at parties with those on either side of you that keeps your companions wanting more, rather than less, of your company.  If, on the other hand, you just sit there, awkwardly pushing your food around because you haven't anything to say, then you really shouldn't have bothered to go out that evening.  Parties require a certain level of behavior from the guest, and that includes keeping the conversation going in a pleasant and diverting manner.  If you are not able or willing to do so, then your time (and that of your unfortunate dinner companions) will be much better spent if you stay at home, alone, catching up on--and then taking to heart--insightful past Reggie Darling posts on matters of etiquette and social comportment.

And with that, Reggie wishes to leave you with but a few more thoughts on this topic that are well worth considering:

• Don't take this all too seriously, we're talking about parties here;
• Believe it or not, your new found dining companion probably isn't as interested in what you have to say as they may appear to be.  They, like you, are at a party and likely understand that conversation at such gatherings is, by its nature, expected to be light-hearted and non-confrontational.  If they are asking you such questions it is because they are polite and well-versed in party etiquette, and they know how to keep the conversation going.  Don't read too much in to their attention; 
• If you find success in your conversations, do not then monopolize them.  Allow your companions the opportunity to ask questions or volunteer information, too.  Do not become the dreaded Conversation Hog, as deliciously skewered by my quite brilliant fellow-blogger Social Primer;
• Avoid the "no-no" topics of religion, politics, and money--and tread lightly in discussing one's work or profession; and
• Watch you alcohol consumption--don't drink so much that your ability to navigate such events or conversational engagements becomes compromised.

So, who forgot to order the candles and centerpieces?

It's as simple as that.

Tell me, Dear Reader, what are the questions and topics in your conversational arsenal that you employ when you find yourself seated amongst strangers?

All photographs from LIFE Images; all cartoons by William Hamilton

Thank-You Flowers After a Party

As I reported in my last post, Boy and I recently gave a bruncheon party at Darlington House.  We had a delightful time doing so, and we particularly enjoyed the mix of guests who attended it, some of whom we were meeting for the first time.  I am happy to report that everyone who attended the party was charming, well-dressed, and marvelous company.  Boy and I had great fun and were saddened when the party inevitably drew to a close, when our last guests departed.

Imagine our pleasant surprise when three of them returned but fifteen minutes later, and the party was able to resume, albeit on a much cozier level!  It turned out that two of the three, a married couple, had missed their train back to New York, and the next train didn't leave for several hours.  The third of the three was their host for the weekend, and had given them a ride to the station.

Needless to say, we were absolutely delighted to see them!  We grabbed another bottle of Prosecco and a box of Li-Lac chocolates that another guest had thoughtfully arrived with, and we settled in to the screened porch, where we spent several delightful hours in amusing and clever conversation, interspersed with much laughter.  The highlight was when, at one point, the husband and Boy delightedly realized they both knew the lyrics to several of the songs from "The Producers" and fell into spirited song, much to the pleasure of the wife and me.  It was much fun.

The next day, back in the work-a-day world, I received a phone call from Boy that flowers had just been delivered to the apartment, a gift of the couple.  And not only that, but they were from Zeze, one of Manhattan's premiere florists and a great favorite of those who appreciate such things.  How deliciously and extravagantly thoughtful, I said.  I couldn't wait to see them.

When I opened the door to the apartment, I was first met with the bouquet's sweet and heady fragrance, a pleasure indeed.  And what a pretty arrangement I found!  A mixture of roses, peonies, hydrangea, lillies, and sweet pea, all in lovely late spring colors, and in a discrete colorless glass vase.  How splendid.  And what a pleasure it was to receive it.

On top of that, it came with this charming note: "Dear Boy and Reggie, Thank you for a wonderful afternoon full of our two favorite things--sparkling conversation and sparkling wine.  We look forward to sharing many more of both! With warmest wishes, Emily & Andrew"  How about that!

I am sharing this story with you, Dear Reader, for a number of reasons:

1.  Reggie never gets flowers and is excited and thrilled that he did, and is bursting to tell someone of his pleasure with it;
2. A gift of flowers is greatly appreciated when delivered to a host after a party, when he has time to savor it and enjoy it along with the fond memories of the party and the sender that it elicits; and
3. Reggie believes that a gift of flowers presented by an arriving guest at the onset of a party is more of an inconvenience than a pleasure, particularly if they require attending to; such flowers are inevitably relegated to a sink or left to wilt during the party, thereby defeating the intended purpose of such a gift.

When giving a gift of flowers, Reggie recommends that his Dear Readers follow the example of Emily and Andrew, and send them as a thank-you after an event rather than arriving with them at the beginning of a party.  A gift of flowers is a delight indeed, and even more delightful when it is delivered to the recipient when he has the leisure to enjoy them.  And that means after the party.

All photos by Boy Fenwick

The Best Thank-You Note

Several weeks ago I decided to surprise Boy one evening by secretly inviting two friends of ours, Lowell and Courtney, to join us at a cooking class held one evening by the inestimable Gail Monaghan here in New York.  Gail, a cookbook author and all around genius in the kitchen, teaches cooking classes out of her art-filled loft in lower Manhattan, and also runs luxurious culinary tours of exotic locales.  I plan on featuring Gail and one of her cooking classes in a future posting. 

I invited Lowell and Courtney to join us as a surprise treat for Boy, since we both enjoy their company, and I thought that they would appreciate meeting Gail and joining us at one of her classes.  We had a lovely time with Lowell and Courtney that evening, and they hit it off with Gail as well, with whom they share a love of cooking and contemporary art. 

Shortly after attending the class we received a thank-you note written by Lowell that stands out, in my mind, as exemplifying the craft of such missives, and which I am sharing with you, Gentle Reader, as an example of that which to aspire to when writing such communiqués.

So what is so noteworthy (pun intended) of this note?

• It appeared in our mailbox within days of the associated event;
• It was handwritten on heavy, handsome card stock;
• It was cleverly written and appropriately flattering to the recipients;
• It was amusing; and
• It was short and to the point.

All in all, it is one of the best thank-you notes that I have received in a long time.  Gentle Reader, I commend it to you as an example to aspire to when writing such notes when you have been the happy recipient of a host's hospitality.  Following its format will ensure that its reader will remember your acknowledgement and good manners with pleasure, and will favorably incline them to invite you, again, to future festivities.  It is a gold-star example of such missives and the successful realization of rule number one of Reggie's Rules of Social Reciprocity.

This is not the first time that Lowell and Courtney have been referred to on Reggie Darling; you can read more about them in a post I did here.

Reggie's Rules For Social Reciprocity, Part II: Myth vs. Reality

Following on my recent discussion of the two rules that are the foundation of "Reggie's Rules of Social Reciprocity" in my post dated February 26th, I thought it would be helpful for me to explain exactly what I believe social reciprocity does and does not entail.  And I will seek to accomplish this by outlining, and then debunking, various myths that I have heard over the years from people mistaken in their understanding of what is, and what is not, required.

Myth 1:  Hosts should entertain solely out of the goodness and generosity of their hearts.  It is unreasonable, petty, and calculating of them to expect a return invitation of some kind.

Reality:  Not true.  As I have already explained in my previous post on this subject, while not the primary reason for entertaining, the prospect of return invitations by one’s guests is a pleasing benefit that a host should reasonably look forward to, assuming that host and guest both wish to maintain a social relationship going forward.

Myth 2:  I, as a guest, am under no obligation to reciprocate my hosts’ invitations, regardless of the number of times they entertain me.

Reality:  This is only true if you don’t care for the host, but then why accept subsequent invitations if you don’t?  If, on the other, hand you like the person(s) who hosted you and wish to maintain a social relationship with them going forward, including a return invitation at some point, then the answer is you MUST reciprocate in accordance with your means and circumstances.

Myth 3:  It doesn’t matter how long it takes me to reciprocate my host’s hospitality.

Reality:  While there is some leeway here, you really should strive to reciprocate hospitality within three months.  After that it starts getting stale.

Myth 4:  One can only reciprocate with an equivalent type of event, such as a cocktail party for a cocktail party, a dinner party for a dinner party, etc.

Reality:  Not true.  The form of the entertainment you provide is incidental and is dependent on your means and circumstances.  If we only reciprocated with like events that would mean we all threw the same party, which would get rather boring, wouldn’t it?

Myth 5:  I couldn’t possibly invite the So-and-Sos to my house because they are much richer/better cooks/throw more expensive parties/have nicer things/are better connected than I am/am/can/do/am.

Reality:  Absolutely and utterly wrong, and a frequent misconception.  The So-and-Sos, if they are civilized people, will be delighted to join you in whatever entertainment you are capable of providing.  Simply because they hosted you to a formal dinner doesn't mean they won't enjoy spending an evening with you at your house eating Chinese takeout and watching the Oscars (as my friend and fellow blogger Lindaraxa commented on my first post on this subject).  As one of my very grandest and most generous friends once said to me, “Reggie, my dear, I am thrilled to be invited into anyone’s home these days, it’s become so rare.  I could care less whether I’m invited to a white tie dinner dance in a palace or for crackers and cheese in a third-floor walkup.  Just to be invited somewhere by someone today is such a pleasure!”

Never be ashamed of how you live or what you haven’t got, and do not use it as an excuse to refrain from returning an invitation.  Most people are delighted to be invited anywhere, so long as they like the person who is inviting them.  Your friends already know your circumstances.  They will appreciate any effort you make on their behalf.

Myth 6:  I couldn’t possibly invite the Such-and-Suches to my house because they are much younger/older/poorer/less well-connected that I am and, besides, they don't further my social agenda.

Reality:  Utterly and infuriatingly wrong.  Don’t be a self-serving, social-climbing, insular snob.  Never refrain from inviting people to your party simply because they don’t have the same (or better) features as the face that stares back at you when you look in the mirror.  If you like them and believe they will be a net addition to your party, then for goodness' sake invite them.  Recognize, however, that they may not be able to entertain you in the same manner you entertain them.  But be prepared to have a delightful time when they ask you to join them one evening, either at their house or elsewhere.

Myth 7:  I can’t possibly entertain.  I only live in a small apartment, and I don’t have any nice dishes or anything much to entertain with.  Besides, I can’t cook!

Reality:  No one says you must only entertain in your home, and that you have to prepare a groaning board for your guests.  There are all sorts of ways that you can entertain someone or a couple who has extended you hospitality when you don’t have the ability (or inclination) to do so where you live.  Here are some suggestions:

• Take them out to a meal in a fun restaurant;
• Organize a picnic in a local park for a summer’s evening concert and arrive with prepared boxed meals;
• Treat them to admission and drinks one evening at a museum -- many cities have museums that are open one night during the week;
• Plan a weekend afternoon’s road-trip to a nearby town or destination, and create a fun and interesting itinerary;
• Ask them to join you for a cooking class one night offered by a local culinary school or chef;
• Sign up for a wine-tasting seminar;
• Buy tickets to a show or sporting event that you will both enjoy;
• Take them to an interesting lecture and treat them to a bite to eat afterwards;

The principle here is that it is critical to define “entertaining” as more than throwing a party in one’s home.  If that isn’t practical, then take the initiative and invite your guests to join you (at your expense) to do something fun, interesting, and enjoyable – however you may define it.  At the end of the day it almost doesn’t matter what you do at all.  It certainly doesn’t matter how much it costs, as there are many options available to you to entertain inexpensively.  Just do something!

Exceptions:

The concept of social reciprocity applies only to private entertaining.  It does not apply to public entertainments, corporate events, or anything work-related for that matter.  You are under no obligation to reciprocate invitations to the following:

• Fund-raising benefits that you are invited to by a friend where you are expected to buy a ticket and bear the cost of your attendance; your support of the event is sufficient.  However, it is in your right to expect that friends whose charitable causes you have supported by attending their favored benefits return the favor should you invite them to one that you support in the future;
• Anything work-related.  Entertainment provided by people that are senior than you are at the office or workplace does not entail a requirement to reciprocate, particularly when the cost of the entertainment is expensed to your firm.  This includes your boss taking you and your spouse out to dinner or entertaining you at his/her home.  It is a different matter, though, if a colleague at the same level as you invites you over for dinner, since that is where it has crossed over the line from work into the realm of social friendship.

The only other exception is when the recipient of the hospitality is in the midst of confronting a major, life-changing event that absorbs all of their faculties and attention.  That would include an illness, the dissolution of a marriage, a bereavement, or similar.

But that’s it.

Some of my readers may be surprised that there aren’t more exceptions on this list.  That is because I believe that the obligation to reciprocate hospitality is a broadly-applied one, covering virtually ALL private social situations, and crossing all social boundaries, economic strata, and generations.  The key take away remains: reciprocity is required when the guest has enjoyed the hosts’ hospitality and where the maintenance and strengthening of such relationship is agreed to by both parties.  As I have said before: the form of such entertainment or hospitality is incidental, the obligation of it is not.

And that's all I have to say on the matter.


Cartoon from Terribly Nice People by Wlliam Hamilton, G. B. Putnam's Sons, 1975

Reggie's Rules of Social Reciprocity, Part I: Why Reggie Throws A Party

My recent posting of “Reggie’s Rules for Popular Party Guests” was one of the most commented-on pieces I’ve written since I started this blog, and some of my commenters’ feelings ran rather hot on what I had to say.  That’s a good thing, I think, because as I wrote in my inaugural post, one of my goals is to engage you, Dear Reader.  Not for the sport of it, certainly, but because the back and forth can be both interesting and knowledge-enhancing – at least for yours truly.

The Cocktail Party

painted by John Koch, 1956

The New York Historical Society

Two of the commenters on my "Popular Party Guests" posting asked me to share what I believe a host should reasonably expect in return from a guest who has been the beneficiary (sometimes more than once) of a host’s entertainment.  They said, and I paraphrase here, "I have had numerous parties over the years where I have repeatedly invited certain guests who have never invited me to one of their parties, much less had me over for a drink.  Is it reasonable for me to expect that such a guest should return my hospitality in some form?"  This is an excellent subject for discussion, I think, and something that Boy and I have bandied about from time to time, both between ourselves and with our most intimate party-giving friends.  It’s useful to compare notes on these matters.

But before I launch into what I believe are Reggie’s Rules for Social Reciprocity, I think it might be helpful for me first to share what motivates me, as a host, to throw parties and entertain guests.  In other words, Why Reggie Throws A Party:

1. I’m a “party person” – I like attending parties and I have a good time at them;
2. I love opening up my house and sharing it with people I like;
3. I enjoy throwing a party – the organization, the planning, and the execution of it – I have fun doing it;
4. I like puttin’ on the dawg – bringing out the silver, china, crystal, and linens, and decorating the house;
5. I take pleasure in giving my friends a good time, feeding them well, providing them with tasty drinks, and making them feel appreciated; in other words, entertaining them;
6. I am happy seeing my friends enjoying themselves, and being the catalyst for it;
7. I have the space, stuff, and means to be able to do it, and I enjoy using it and sharing it;
8. I’m good at it, it comes easily to me; and
9. It increases the likelihood of my being invited to my guests’ parties in the future.

Did you notice the first and last motivating factors?  I like attending parties, whether my own or other’s, because they are fun!  While throwing a party fulfills my desire to entertain, it also improves the odds that I will be asked to attend parties thrown by those I've entertained, particularly if they've enjoyed attending one of my parties.  Do note the ranking, Dear Reader, as the hope for a return invite sits all the way at the bottom of the list.  But it’s there for a good reason: it’s true!

Remember the old sayings “Give a little, get a little” and “I’ll scratch your back if you scratch mine”?  Well, they apply to entertaining, too.

Don’t get me wrong: a guest is under absolutely no obligation, moral or otherwise, to reciprocate a host’s hospitality if they don’t choose to, particularly if they decide they don’t care for their host all that much.  But, if the guest likes the person who has entertained them, and they wish to maintain a social relationship with them over time, including being asked back to future parties, then the guest must reciprocate the hospitality.  The form of such hospitality is incidental; the obligation is not.

So, to answer my commenters' question: Yes, a host should reasonably expect a well-mannered guest to reciprocate their hospitality at some point, assuming that both host and guest wish to maintain an ongoing social relationship.  Failure to issue a reciprocal invitation, particularly when the guest has been the recipient of the host's hospitality more than once, is a lapse of manners on the part of the guest.  At that point it is then up to the host to decide whether he wishes to maintain the social relationship with said guest by issuing further invitations, out of the goodness of his heart, or to drop them and concentrate his hospitality on other, in some cases more deserving, guests.

But well before a guest is under any obligation to reciprocate their host's hopitality they must first have acknowledged and thanked the host for the hospitality they have enjoyed.  This appears as Rule 14 in "Reggie's Rules for Popular Party Guests" and is also the first rule of "Reggie's Rules for Social Reciprocity."

Rule 1: Within 48 hours of attending a party, guests must contact their hosts and thank them.

Either be telephone, email, or mailed note.  Failure to acknowledge the hospitality with a simple post-party "thank you" can be interpreted, rightly or wrongly, as meaning the guest either didn't care for the entertainment or couldn't be bothered to acknowledge his host's generosity.  It is a disincentive for the host to issue a return invitation to such guest when there are other, more gracious guests who charmingly express their appreciation.

Rule 2:  If guests wish to maintain a social relationship with those that have entertained them, then they must reciprocate the hospitality in some form, to the extent that their means and circumstances allow it.

Failure to do so sends a signal to the host, whether intended or not, that the guest does not care to promote an onging social relationship with the host.  It also, and quite reasonably, leads many a host to conclude that there are others who are more worthy of their future hospitality. 

These two rules of social recoprocity are the foundation for building and sustaining a social relationship amongst civilized, social people.  Social relationships are, by definition, two-way streets, as are all true relationships. Without reciprocity of some kind, social (and other) relationships eventually wither and die. What once had the opportunity to blossom into a sustained social relationship instead finds itself lumbering down a one-way street leading to a lonely nowhere.

Of course there are exceptions to these rules, as there are for any.  But they are exceptions, and I shall discuss them in the second part of my examination of this subject, to follow shortly.  I will also share my views about what I believe constitutes appropriate and suitably enjoyable reciprocal entertainment, which I think may surprise one or more of my readers.

Next week: Part II: Myth vs. Reality

Reggie’s Rules for Popular Party Guests

As the readers of this blog well know, Boy and I had the pleasure of throwing a large and festive holiday cocktail party last month. It was a marvelous gathering, well-attended, sparkling, and fun. We really enjoyed it, and our many guests did, too.

In the meantime I have been doing some thinking about what made the party successful, and what its drawbacks were. I’ve already enumerated the successes in previous posts, and so have nothing to add to them here. But I have come up with some observations that I believe my readers may be interested in as to what I believe guests can do to maximize the pleasure their hosts take in having them attend such a party. It is, after all, a two way street.

Invitation courtesy of http://www.tinyprints.com/

Following these simple rules will insure that you, Gentle Reader, are a popular and sought-after guest, and the beneficiary of numerous repeat invitations for years to come.

1. When you receive an invitation to a party that requests a response, you should do so well-in-advance of the event. Do not make your hosts chase you down.

Boy and I sent out 60 printed invitations for our cocktail party with Rsvp and our telephone number clearly printed at the base of the card (see above). We mailed the invitations at the beginning of December to provide our guests with plenty of advance notice, recognizing that many of them would have busy calendars during the holidays. Approximately half of the invitees—and kudos to them—responded within two weeks. Then dead silence. Faced with 30 un-answered invitations, a caterer asking for headcount, and other unquantifiable expenses, Boy and I then got out our telephone books and started chasing down those of the invitees who hadn’t responded. Not only was this inconvenient and time consuming for us, but it also delayed our ability to finalize plans with service providers during their busiest time of year.  Do your hosts the courtesy of responding.

2. When your host calls you to find out whether you are attending his party, do not answer “I don’t know.”

I recognize and understand that we are not always in control of our calendars at all times. However, if you are not certain of your ability to attend a party then you should decline the invitation. Failing that, but only under extraordinary circumstances, you should give your host a definitive date for when you will let them know one way or the other. The vagaries and whys and wherefores of your calendar are of little interest to your host at this point. He wants to know whether you are attending his party or not.

3. When you haven’t responded to an invitation and your host leaves you a voicemail at your home or on your mobile seeking one, you must do so immediately upon listening to the message, absent an unexpected residency in the IC unit of your local hospital.

Failure to acknowledge an invitation at this point is egregiously thoughtless and unspeakably rude and—to put it in printable words—does the exact opposite of promoting civil discourse with your putative host the next time you chance to see him in public.

4. After accepting an invitation, do not then call up your host the day of the party with a lame excuse about why you are not going to attend. And certainly not just as the party is scheduled to begin.

For large parties it is far better to be a no-show and then call the next morning with an abject apology.  As for dinner parties, just don't do it.  Period.

5. Dress appropriately for the party. Make an effort.

This is more of an issue for men than women, I find. It's fine to show up at a barbeque wearing shorts, but when the pleasure of your company is requested to a large party in a printed invitation you should assume that a certain level of dress is expected. In my house that means, at minimum, men over 40 should arrive wearing a sport jacket or blazer, and women should arrive made up and wearing something festive. In other words: dress for the party. While I didn’t expect all of our guests to arrive wearing cocktail outfits inspired by the characters in “Mad Men” (and was pleased to see that some of them did, actually), I was rather surprised that more than one of the men arrived unshaven, wearing jeans and a casual shirt. Just because this is my country house doesn’t mean that you should consider it appropriate to arrive at my party dressed like a bumpkin or a lumberjack. Consider the type of party you are attending, and dress appropriately.

6. Do not feel compelled to arrive bearing a gift.

Perhaps your mother told you that “nice people” always bring something to a party--an "hostess gift"--but in our case it is really not necessary. For us the pleasure of your company is sufficient.  I certainly won't object to receiving a small gift, but I don't expect it.

7. Circulate and introduce yourself to people you don’t know.

Don’t just stand there speaking only to your wife/spouse/significant other/best friends. Circulate among the rooms and engage new people in conversation. This is a party, not a family reunion.

8. Keep it light.

Leave your worries at home. Conversation at parties should be light-hearted, topical, or amusing.  It is not the venue for describing in detail the miseries of your gallstones ordeal.

9. Enjoy what food and drink is provided, and do not seek special treatment.

Your hosts have gone to considerable effort and care in selecting the food and drink they are offering at their party. Do not ask for red wine or hot tea when none is offered, and do not complain when there is food on the menu that you don’t care to eat. Either choose from the selection of what is being offered to you or abstain from ingesting it. You are not at a restaurant, and the caterer is not there to indulge your whims.

10. Please do not feed my dog.

While Pompey is adorable and a true professional when it comes to procuring treats, please do not feed him cheese and canapés at my party. It can have disastrous consequences, particularly when several dozen of you do it.  Do not feed the pets, no matter how cute they are.

11. Monitor you alcohol consumption.

No explanation needed (as per ~LPC).

12. Know when to leave.

This is a follow-on to the previous admonition. Sometimes it’s appropriate to stay on with the after-party set, if there is one, and sometimes it isn’t. Better to err on the side of leaving early than too late.

13. If, for whatever reason, you are a no-show at the party after having accepted the invitation, you must call the host the next day and apologize.

And the excuse better be a good one, whether made up or true, such as illness, a family emergency, or that your house burned down.

14. Within 48 hours of attending the party, you should contact your hosts and thank them.

Either by telephone, email, or mailed note. It generates good will. Your mother was right on this one.

In closing, while some of my readers may chafe at the number of outlined rules and dismiss them as the ravings of a persnickety stickler for out-moded rules of etiquette, they are, in fact, the considered result of my many years of experience and observations as both a popular guest and a generous host. Each was prompted by a specific incident or series of incidents at parties that I have either attended or thrown over the years.

Following these rules is actually quite simple and straightforward and will insure that both you—as guest—and your host will derive maximum pleasure in each others’ company at parties for many years to come.