Burned-out librarian can’t relate to the work-from-home friends

Dear Miss Manners: How do I politely tell my friends and family I do not want to socialize online? I love them, but I don’t have much in common with them since the pandemic started.

I am a public librarian who has been required to work indoors with the public through most of the pandemic. In addition to doing our regular jobs, my colleagues and I have been tasked with asking customers to put on or pull up their masks and, for several months, to limit their stay to 30 minutes, all while worrying about our own exposure in an indoor space full of shared surfaces.

We have often been the targets of frustrated customers who did not want to wear masks or were angry that they couldn’t stay beyond 30 minutes. To top it off, we were not eligible to receive the vaccine until after many people in “workfrom-home” professions were given priority. I have found myself unable to enjoy online social gatherings because those in my social circle have been working from home for over a year. The jokes about wearing sweatpants all day and statements such as “Now that we’re all venturing out again ...” are getting old.

We are not all “venturing out again.” Some of us have been out this entire time, working and hoping not to die.

I have many friends who are now embarking on wonderful vacations, even though they have still not set foot back in their offices. Meanwhile, I have a hard time getting vacation days because the library is open seven days a week, and we are always stretched thin on staff.

How should I politely decline online and other social requests when the truth is I just can’t stand the assumptions that we’ve all been staying at home for a year or more?

Gentle reader: Burnout has, unfortunately, inflamed your social responses.

Normally, you would remember how easy it is to decline a social invitation with thanks, but without excuses. Or you would presume that your friends would be interested in what you have to say, and take the opportunity to explain to them that their experiences are not universal.

But Miss Manners recognizes that you have developed an unreasonable grudge against those who have had an easier time of it than you. Please recognize how futile this is. It is as if someone who had been on a ventilator, or who had lost a relative, accused you of having it easy. By all means, take whatever alone time you need. But not at the expense of your friends, with whom you may eventually be glad to reconnect.

Dear Miss Manners: My job involves answering a helpline to assist callers applying to a confusing government funding program. I pride myself on not only answering the questions posed, but ensuring applicants get all the assistance they need.

I am thanked often for my work, and I enjoy doing it, hopefully with warmth and occasional humor.

My concern is how to politely end conversations when the business is concluded, but the caller needlessly extends the closing niceties. After certain phrases have been spoken by both parties (“Call me again if you need me,” for instance, or “Thank you and have a nice day”), instead of hanging up, the caller begins to reiterate their thanks, continues to wish me well, or even starts an unrelated conversation (“Have I told you that you remind me of my cousin?”).

Sometimes I feel my only option is to be direct, but hopefully still kind (“I’m going to have to sign off now” or “I do need to take my next call”). Do you have any other suggestions for how to politely get the message across to those who seem reluctant to disconnect?

Gentle reader: There is a misconception that being direct is always rude — no doubt a reaction against the Truth-Telling Crowd who feel compelled to tell you what they think of your weight, your attitude and your sense of style.

But there is nothing wrong with saying, in your kindest tone, that you have to ring off because you have other applicants who need your help. If this still feels insufficient, Miss Manners makes no objection to prefacing it with an apology.

Dear Miss Manners: Is it proper to choose a restaurant that you like, rather than asking the friend her preference?

Gentle reader: Why can’t you do both? Assuming, of course, that you wish to see her again.