Dear Social Grace,
Soon I must attend a very formal dinner party. The last time I had to attend such an event, I was very uncomfortable because I couldn't figure out how people knew to stop talking to the person on their right and begin talking to the person on their left. It seemed as if there was some invisible signal that was sent to everyone but me. As I looked at other tables, it was apparent that at the same moment everyone shifted slightly in their seats and started talking to their other dining partner. What is the secret? Please let me know soon.
Please sign me,
Confused About Yet Another Social Grace
Dear Confused Madam,
Has Social Grace received a letter from the Ghost of Dinner Parties Past? The gentlefolk at Social Grace HQ thought the "turning of the tables" ritual had long ago died a quiet death somewhere in a dilapidated old Connecticut mansion. I strongly suspect this to be the case, unless whimsical hosts are resurrecting the practice for novelty's sake -- in which case, they should inform invitees that their guests will be participating in a nostalgic dinner "game."
For readers born after the first moon landing, some explanation might be in order. The purpose of the long-outdated custom of "table turning" was to ensure that dinner guests divided their conversation evenly between table partners. It worked this way: The hostess began the meal talking to the man on her right, as did all other women at the table. When the hostess thought dinner was at its midway point ("after the second course" is often mentioned in my references), she would wind up her conversation with the man on her right and begin speaking to the man on her left. At this cue, the other women at the table did the same. Thus we answer this question from the mists of history: Watch your hostess, confused spirit.
Several things have contributed to this practice's demise, one being the wide-scale disappearance of the requirement that there be the same number of women as men at a dinner party. We can also look to our society's relatively new requirements that social events be as unstructured as possible -- and these informality rules are often enforced much more strictly than the formality rules ever were.
We are still required by polite behavior to speak to the people on either side of us during dinner, but we are trusted to do that without being forced to. A thoughtful person will also be aware of anyone sitting silently nearby and will attempt to draw him or her into conversation.
Dear Social Grace,
I started a new job six months ago and have an uncomfortable situation. It is a tradition in my office to celebrate employees' birthdays by taking them out to lunch and buying them a present. Until recently, the person organizing the lunch (usually the office manager) would collect money for the gift a week or two before the event. This system had uneven results, as a number of people in the office are out of town any given week. The amount collected might be more or less for each birthday, with some frequent travelers almost never contributing. A solution to this problem was proposed and agreed upon at an office meeting: a new system whereby each person in the office would contribute $5 per month to a birthday fund. Then, whenever a birthday came up, there would be an adequate and equal amount of money available for a gift.
At first this system seemed reasonable to me, as it treats everyone fairly -- everyone offers the same amount and everyone receives a generous gift at birthday time. Then I missed my payment last month. When faced with forking over $10 this month, I blanched. Five dollars seemed like a lot of money, and the generous gifts seemed extravagant. Upon reflection, it now seems to me that the lunch alone is an ideal celebration -- those who want to, and feel they can afford to, can attend and contribute a small amount to cover the birthday person's meal; others can opt out without having to provide excuses. My dilemma now is how to bring up my misgivings without seeming to be stingy or a party pooper. I feel uncomfortable giving the money, but I would feel even worse being the only one who didn't.
Sincerely,
Office Birthday Grinch
Dear Mr. Grinch,
The people at your office have solved a nonexistent problem: namely, that people were celebrating the birthdays they wished to celebrate. Employees who travel often (and are probably on less intimate terms with many co-workers) didn't participate. Curmudgeonly accounts-receivable clerks were not the unwilling recipients of phony bonhomie. And new employees on tight budgets were left to spend that $60 per year on frivolities like groceries, dry cleaning, or nail polish.
Friends and co-workers are two different animals. Sometimes, if we are lucky, we have a co-worker who is also a friend, but an employer is unwise to force friendship. You are not in the wrong here. Wanting to reserve gift-giving for your friends and loved ones does not make you a grinch. And you're lucky: You say this practice is a tradition (not an office policy). I suggest you pay a private visit to someone in authority; express your valid concerns; and request that some kind of official memo, to the effect that any gift-giving is to be at the discretion of the giver, be issued. Office gifts are the purview of the company itself, and can correctly be limited to retirement gifts and bonuses for well-done jobs.
