Hello gentle reader, to steal an opening from one of my favorite columnists. Yes, it’s true, I love Miss Manners. I have her books and read them like reference materials. Not only is she utterly hilarious, she gives some pretty darn good advice. (I almost said d@*$ good advice but lost my nerve. Miss Manners might read this someday and I don’t want a naughty word to make me look bad in front of my heroine.)
I like to read self-help type books that offer useful life advice and are still fun to read. Miss Manner’s Guide to Excruciatingly Correct Behavior was an early entry in my self-help career. She taught me the value of knowing the difference between a salad and a dessert fork, and how to fake it if you’re ever confused; work from the outside in. If that doesn’t work, just eat slowly and follow the lead of the hostess. Make sure the hostess isn’t a troll.
Having learned to not sip from the finger bowl or ask anyone ‘Where did you get a name like that, it was time to more on to the more challenging elements of etiquette. I like that, ‘Elements of Etiquette’. It sounds like Miss Manners is collaborating with Strunk and White.
The challenge of etiquette is that when you know proper etiquette, and no one else does, you have some difficult choices to make. Take, for instance, the word ‘forte’. People say ‘Oh well, of course I’m terrific at weaving blankets out of mouse hair, you know that fiber arts are my forte’ (pronounced with a long ‘A’ sound). Since forte’ is a musical term that means ‘Fast’, it doesn’t really fit. Now good manners require that we just smile, say how nice for you, and move away from the funny smell of mouse trousers. In fact, the fiber artist should have said weaving was his ‘forte’, pronouncing it like the fort he built out of boxes, board, and mouse fur blankets when he was a little fiber artist. Good manners require that I not correct him, carry on with the smiling and the back-stepping. I can do that. I can refrain from correcting someone’s grammar.
Here’s the problem; not everyone is far enough up the etiquette ladder to hold back an uninvited correction. If I say the work correctly, I would say that dredging up obscure vocabulary is my fort (box house with boards and, let’s be honest, Chihuahua hair blankets). Now the weaver thinks I just blew it and nearly leaps out of his cockroach shell man-sandals to correct me. Now it’s on. Do I remain polite and accept the correction, when I know I said it right and he didn’t? Or do I go for it, do the bad thing, and correct the correction?
I’m in my fort and he’s advancing forte; I’m right, with God on my side, but he’s not bound by the rules of etiquette. What will happen? Who will win? Who gets to stand in the middle of the room gently smirking, while their vanquished opponent mumbles something about needing to go to the loo, and then ransacks the guest room for a dictionary?
It’s me, I win. I decided that this isn’t just about etiquette, this is a teachable moment. Who am I to leave this poor weaver with a busted up vocabulary when it’s in my power to enrich his life. I say it; ‘Well actually, most people are surprised to find that forte is the correct pronunciation. Of course, (here comes the bone), it really depends on the dictionary you use. Some list the preferred pronunciation in different orders.
Ohhh, victory is sweet. I fully enjoy the moment…..there, fully enjoyed. Thank you.
Hey, where is everyone? Things were just getting interesting. We were talking about grammar and dictionaries, long ‘A’s and accent markings. Hey, mouse guy, want to know who to say niche?
Fine, I think I’ll go arrange the plastic flatware and see if they have any dictionaries.
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