A Question of Etiquette
I work with a team of people who help a friend cater meals. One meal in particular is meant to replicate a fine dining experience. The table is set as tables should be set. We dress in black. Serve from the left, pick up from the right. It’s all about decorum. But there’s always a tension around the serving and picking up as to the necessity of the form because it’s not always easy to do. I insist we try; some are more relaxed.
Since I fall into the try camp, I’ve often wondered why. Why do I care to know the use and arrangement of knives, forks, and spoons? Why do I care to understand where, how, and when to set various plates and glasses? Why do I care about the etiquette of serving and eating a meal? I know it’s what I was taught and what I want to learn, but why? What’s it all about? Why is it satisfying to me and irritating to others? I suspect it is all about upward mobility, and how it used to be pursued.
I grew up living in apartments. My parents wanted a house. My mother made my shirts. I wanted to buy madras. As I aged, I wore what the bosses wore. I bought a house. We bought fine China. We dressed for church and events. We moved up. But that was a different era. Nowadays, no one wants fine China, everything is casual, and decorum and etiquette are self-defined. I go along because what does it really matter? Overall, I thought the rules of dress and behavior made for a more refined society. But what if was only about control? That’s a harder question to answer, and I’m not sure I have one yet.