EMBARRASSING MOMENTS CAN ALSO BE HILARIOUS
Their slogan was, “You can do it. We can help.”
And whaddya know? Apparently, I could still do it. My dip into Home Depot on a Friday night was proving to be just the morale lift a mother of two teenagers needed. I might be mistaken for a household appliance at home, but here, in the garden section at Home Depot, I was Eve, the original temptress. In the rodent and pest control aisle, I was a tall-walking, big, black cat. Stud finder? At your service! In every aisle I pushed that buggy down, I met with unabashedly approving smiles. I recollect thinking, “Man, those 100 daily crunches are really paying off.”
All indications were that the girl still had it. My come-hitherness still hithered. My fetchingness still fetched. When it came to winsome, I still had some.
I sashayed down the tool aisle channelling Pamela Anderson from her early days on the show Home Improvement. With no small irony, I tossed an electrical coupling into the buggy. Clearly, my hidden charms were still viable here in testosterone land.
Men were smiling at me. Nodding at me. Was that a wink? I was on fire, I tell you. We've all shopped at Home Depot. Those buggies are big and wide. You have to grab hold of them with a wide grip — a sort of three o'clock, nine o'clock grip. Wide. It wasn't until I went to the check out that I discovered the source of the evening's endorsements. As my turn at the till came up, the cashier did one of those things with her finger, indicating that I might want to check out the front of my blouse.
I did. I was undone to the waist. And I was wearing a “date night” bra. I'm not sure which was orange-r — my face or the Home Depot buggy. A smirk can look so much like a smile. So much for the persistence of my allure.
I have about a half-dozen other wardrobe malfunction stories I could tell you, but there are so many other gaffes for me to choose from. On some occasions, it wasn't clear who, exactly, ought to have been embarrassed. I mean, what's the appropriate response when you stumble onto a friend's affair? In the instant of discovery, you're complicit in the arrangement. You can't win in this situation: Say something, you're wrong as well as malicious. Say nothing, you're harbouring a matrimonial fugitive. Truly, your only option here is to play dead. I think I excused myself, saying something like, “Well, I'll let you get back to whatever it is you're doing. Or, um, not doing” — thereby underscoring why I could never have a career in the diplomatic corps.
One of the nice things about the advancing years is that it takes a whole lot more to embarrass you. I used to lose a lot of sleep to mortification when I was younger. High school provided an abundance of opportunities for humiliation, and Monday mornings were a clearing house for weekend social blunders.
Which reminds me of yet another moment where clothing was complicit in yet another indignity. Gym class. Probably ninth grade. I had the coolest shorts. They did up with snaps down one side. Our gym had bleachers where kids congregated. So, I'm standing there, wearing the coolest shorts ever, and someone runs past me and yanks on the snapped side. The shorts fall to the floor. I'm standing in front of the assembled in the bleachers with my shorts pooled at my feet. I felt I had no choice but to dye my hair, change my name, and leave town. Ahhh, high school ... Clearly, I've had my troubles with fasteners in my lifetime. Mortifying, yes, but with fewer complexities than accidentally inserting yourself into someone's affair. Jane Macdougall is a freelance writer and former National Post columnist who lives in Vancouver. Her garden is her major distraction during COVID-19. She writes on The Bookless Club every Saturday online and in The Vancouver Sun.
■ I was born and raised in Bermuda, went to a private school there, so your comments about everybody knowing everybody's business rang so true.
My parents were Canadian and manners were important, but it was at school that I really had to mind my p's and q's. I do not regret the discipline for a moment and we did our best with our offspring. Their manners are tolerable, but we are hoping to improve on the grandchildren. Maryfran Bateman
■ We have not received thankyou cards from the last three weddings we attended. For each wedding, we bought a nice card, enclosed a generous cheque, wrote heartfelt words of congratulations, and wrote our names and address both inside the card and on the envelope. For two of the three weddings, we also had the expense of long drives or airline tickets, hotels, and meals. Did we get a thank-you card from any of the newlyweds? No. Kat Collin I feel manners are a crucial part of everyday life.
From taking a moment to letting someone into a line of traffic, or a simple thank you. It's a feel-good moment that costs nothing, a gesture that makes it a better day.
When I was very young, my father taught me table manners. Being so young at the time I couldn't understand why it was important. But the more I thought about it, the more I came to realize it was about how you perceive yourself and are perceived by others. Manners are about respect. Respecting yourself and others. We all learn by example, be it a job, sports or being courteous. I think being courteous toward one another improves the quality of life for yourself and those around you. Courteous can be contagious. B.M. Shaw
I have been dating a lovely English gentleman for 18 months. Private school in England drilled into him that he must stand when a woman leaves the table or enters the room. He holds the seatbelt for me, walks on the street side of the sidewalk, pulls out my chair, and opens all doors. My children think it's sexist, but although I consider myself a feminist, I love it. He also delivers a handwritten thank you to dinner hosts. Lucky me. Carol Jones
■ I found your article quite jarring as the manners you described only pertained to traditional Anglo- Saxon populations. I was born here and despite my mother not teaching me how to set a table or asked to be excused, I am not a finger-licking cannibal. This ideology is problematic as it perpetuates and upholds that upperclass, white, educated individuals set the standard, excluding a majority of the diverse community of Vancouver. I found this article quite uncivilized. Theo Li