Good Etiquette

I was seated on my return flight home from Atlanta to New York next to a coupled aged a few years younger than I. And because the husband resembled in appearance and voice the former “let-go” ill-performing principal of the high school I decided I didn’t like him very much. So when the flight attendant came over to ask what drinks and snacks everyone wanted and the husband spoke for his wife sitting right next to him more closely than anchovies in a can I thought Really? Can’t she speak for herself?

When I was young and my father took the family out for dinner he did all of the ordering. It was customary as specified by etiquette for the gentleman to do so. My brother, my mother and I reported our desires to him and my father  in turn reeled it off to the waiter—referring to my mother as my wife and to my brother as the young man and to me as the young lady.

That wouldn’t fly in my family. Our ordering is too complicated. There is no possible way that unless my husband had an excel work sheet and a keen ability to read minds that he would ever succeed.

Kara and I went to a Jewish Bagel/Deli place for lunch when I was in Atlanta. I ordered the Nova Platter and Kara ordered the Hummus platter. It wasn’t as simple as that. It needed some revision.

I wanted a slightly warmed but not toasted everything bagel completely scooped out—as in devoid of all dough --and instead of the plain cream cheese could I have the light cream cheese with scallions--but on the side? And I did not want the tomato or onion but could I have 2 pickles please? Kara did not want the pita bread, she wanted a lightly toasted onion bagel and she did not want the French fries—could she please have the cucumber salad in its place? Oh and does tomato come with that because if not I would like a few tomato slices. 

It took two sheets of paper on the waitress’ order slip to write it all down.

There is no way I would ever subject my husband to that. And there is no way he could ever have gotten it correct—particularly since I am well known for changing my entrée at the last minute.

And I realized that the husband who looked and spoke a lot like the former principal was not a chauvinist or a buffoon. I had misjudged him. He was simply a Southern gentleman. He spoke for his wife because that is what well-bred men do.

And if my husband would have tried to order for me on the airplane like that gentleman did, aside from getting a verbal admonishment or at the very least a death stare, he would not have gotten such a simple order to my liking. He would simply have said my wife would like a ginger ale and some pretzels.He would not have said that the lady would like a ginger ale with not too much ice and two bags of pretzels instead of one. And I would have been annoyed that my cup would have had too much ice and half the volume of snack that I in fact wanted.

Sometimes good etiquette means bending the rules. Especially in this day and age. Especially with women of discerning tastes. Deference is indeed mannerly. And luckily for me (and him) my husband is gentlemanly (and smart enough) to know when to let a lady speak for herself.