It occurred to me recently that public manners have become the socially unacceptable thing to expect.
Gone are the days when people listened to one another with their full frontal attention.
Yesterday’s attentive and thoughtful listener is drowned out in a tsunami of device screen lights.
Children who once were chastised for inattention at church or other public gatherings are no longer held in check by expectations of any polite behavior. Good old fashioned consideration seems to have slipped away like a dirty dog with muddy paws.
As recently as this past fall, my husband and I attended a comedian’s show at a large venue. We arrived well ahead of the show and planned about 30 minutes leeway to find a seat, stand in line, or whatever before the show. Even though it was chilly, windy, and misty, we huddled in line with about 2000 others who shuffled ahead on a fairly regular pace.
Pardon Me: Is that a sidewalk?
We noticed four young women, apparently oblivious to a wide slab of walking concrete, who pranced ahead of our line by way of the landscaping mulch. With cellular devices glued to ears and tosses of beach waved hairs, they flitted around the rest of the deplorables and hoofed it to the front of the line amidst their own giggles and fashionista wake.
I was equally appalled and in awe of the audacity: the absence of manners.
No little satisfaction was had by me when a few moments later, the four nymphs came tripping along flapping ponchos, downcast gazes, and somewhat deflated at the return journey (also via mulch) to the back of the line.
Apparently some gate keeper of politeness had turned them away, or maybe they had no tickets.
Anyway, we entered our door, which said General Admission above it. Right beside our door was an entrance with Inner Circle posted above it, and the line was entering at the same slow pace. Immediately upon entering the building, our hearts began to vibrate due to the earsplitting decibels of swanky music radiating from the dark and fog machine-filled sanctuary.
I wanted to run back and check that doorpost. Did it say, “abandon all hope. . . ”
Our bones jolted with the music not only because of the audio volume, but because of the nasty lyrics. What happened to the family friendly atmosphere?
Pardon Me: Is Anyone Sitting There?
Finding seats in the balcony, we sat in the middle a pew which had stairs on either side of it. Seated in the middle, we thought we were being polite so that others could sit near the ends. Plus, we had more bench to vibrate on as the music assaulted our senses.
Right before the show began, lights having already been dimmed, a couple arrived and asked, “Is anyone sitting there?” as she pointed to the empty space. Room enough for three.
I said, “No.” It was dark, so I doubt she noticed my incredulous eyebrows. Pardon me, you don’t want to know what I was thinking.
She went on. “Could you move over?”
In my best teacher voice, I said, “No.” I pointed to the more than necessary space for them to sit.
She was communicating to me, in essence, that she wanted me to move from my seat, so she could belatedly sit in the seats we had selected. We paid the same price and she wanted someone else’s seat.
When did this become acceptable for people expect the person already seated to move?
Pardon Me: I’ll tell you where.
People who attend movies and arrive late expect that those who are already seated, surprisingly before the show, should move so that the latecomers can sit where ever they desire.
No. You can’t sit in my seat. Does this ring true for anyone?
I must be missing something. It’s not bad manners to arrive on time, choose a seat and be ready.
I have never in my life asked someone to move from their seat so I could sit in it.
Pardon me, but this may have begun inside a church. People arrive late with their coffee cups, their devices, and the entire population of their great aunts who need to sit in my seat. So, while congregants attempt to mind the business of worship (singing, listening, etc.) the tap comes from the bothersome person who is consistently 15 minutes late every week.
[Side note. If a person is consistently 15 minutes late, can they be consistently on time or dare I say, even early, every week?]*
Pardon me, but why is it acceptable to interrupt others in the very thing that are in attendance to do—worship someone besides ourselves and our own time?
If events were not meant to begin at a certain time, no start time would be on the agenda, sign, or ticket.
Right?
People walk in front of the speaker to throw away a Kleenex. They get up to stand, turn, and to face the back of the room during the opening minutes of the presentation. Necks bend as they crane to get the last text, post, or swipe in. And total disclosure, I had my device with me and I took a picture of my date and me before the show [didn’t like it so I trashed it]. Then I put it away.
So the entertainers were well received, and they were refreshingly clean and relevant. Even though I found myself the butt of many of the jokes, because they roast the white middle class conservative Christian, they adeptly lifted our hearts as we laughed at ourselves.
As the show went on, I began to feel a softening towards the couple who entered late and wanted me to move over. As I glanced aside at them in hopes of catching their gaze with a smile, I noticed that they were making out.
In the pew. Right beside me.
Pardon me: What?
A comedy show is the place for intimate groping and kneading? Averting my eyes, I just tried to focus on the main attractions. It was difficult. The dancing fool in the rows in front of me, the couple (when not kneading each other) were displaying the glowing decibel meter on their smart phone.
What has happened to us?
On analysis, the breakdown is due to the entire process.
- The ticket buying: $28 a piece six weeks in advance with $7.50 handling fee. (handle what?)
- Rushing home, deciding on whether to eat before or after the show since we should arrive an hour before the door opens.
- Arriving within the hour before, yet the parking lot was already full.
- Underestimating the weather in September. It was 80 degrees all day and dropped to a chilly 45 right before we needed to stand in line. Should we carry the umbrella in line knowing that we have to hang onto it all night?
- Would the bar code scan at the door? Was my printer good enough to have printed it?
- Being ushered into a darkly lit area, finding no space in the smoke filled room. The ear splitting decibels. (NO joke)
- Leaving without going to the restroom because we were in the tidal wave leaving (a true Red Sea rush)
- Sitting in the parking lot for 20 minutes as we watched our Christian brothers and sisters rudely cut one another off over and over. And on and on.
Pardon Me: I’m Exhausted
As we reflected in our post-concert letdown aura, we decided that it was not worth the stress. But that could be due to our natural reluctance to attend huge arena events, so we are out of practice.
Pardon me, it might be that maybe society has coarsened manners so completely, their kitschy. We need to work on it, folks.
Generally, Alan and I seek out those events that are slower paced and more relational.
Dinner out together. Talking as we enjoy the meal.
Watching movies at home with Alan’s famous ‘corn’ tossed just so with real butter. He always has the dishtowel in his back pocket. It’s so cute.
A corn maize always catches our attention each year, and we tramp through it as we joke and trip through the huge corn stalks each year.
Taking in outdoor concerts that we attend in our lawn chairs as we relax in the summer sun are much more refreshing.
Bartlett Arboretum Schedule 2019
Pay at the door. Mosey through the garden to the amphitheater. Put the sunglasses on.
No one asks for the seat I’m in because I brought my own.
Ahhh…
Thanks for stopping by, on time.
Debra
P.S. * You know I’m not referring to the servers, the workers who have to slip in after things start. I grant them grace to be late. 😉
All pictures from pixabay.com