An Etiquette Lesson in Refusing to Apologize

It is appropriate to apologize if you push someone in front of a car. You should say sorry if you splash your hand around quickly inside of someone’s soup bowl like an epileptic fish, splattering them with chicken broth and alphabet noodles. Varying tones of regret can be administered if you are to un-pot a neighbor’s houseplant, stick your gum inside a stranger’s ear, call a mustached person a “land walrus” or for burping in public.

But there are certain instances when it’s just not your fault, and to apologize is a waste of everyone’s day. Let me explain.

I, Uh, Er, Hey!

First and foremost, you do not need to say “sorry” for being awkward. If you are a strange smiler, don’t apologize. (Never do it again, but move on.) Likewise, the sidewalk shuffle is universally uncomfortable: are you going left? Are you going right? Are we playing lacrosse?

Just embrace it.

No one knows if he or she is supposed to go in for the hug, the handshake, or the double kiss, but you just went rogue and attempted a high-five. That’s okay. You wouldn’t say sorry for sneezing, would you? No — it’s someone else’s responsibility to bless that mess right back into your soul, so never feel guilty for stuttering a “hello.” You’re human, and humans are awkward. Unless you’re an alien, in which case, beep boop.

The Hunger Games

The pressing strike of a clock’s hand at noon brings out more anxiety among coworkers than sober karaoke. “What should we order?” they shout across cubicles. “Burritos again, or should we do kale?” It’s 3 PM by the time everyone agrees because we’ve become a nation of Seamless-communists: all for one and one for all.

But lunch is a democracy — you are your own person — and you should never have to apologize for a solo mission. At lunch time, it’s crucial to stand your ground. So what if you didn’t tell Nancy you were ordering an hour ago? She’s your cube-mate, not your conjoined twin with an anatomically codependent stomach. Proper etiquette says you don’t have to apologize; she may try to staple your thumb “accidentally,” but she’ll get over it and your finger will survive.

Spoiled Milk

Spoiler alerts do not ruin movies. People who are untimely with their cinematic queue ruin movies. In what is perhaps the worst neurosis to come out of the 21st century, Fear of Spoilers plagues a generation that has become reliant on technology’s ability to cater films and television to our independent schedules.

A limit should be put on the information embargo regarding all new episodes and releases (this includes web series, podcasts, Amazon and Netflix originals): on-time watchers will be required to keep their mouths shut regarding plot lines and important deaths for exactly one week post-airing. After that, announcing who hooked up with whom is 100% unapologetic fair game.

More importantly, those wishing to reference a crucial scene from a show or movie that’s at least one year old should in no way be held accountable when in the presence of someone who has “just discovered Friday Night Lights.” That show is amazing, but old as fuck. It’s no one’s fault but the tardy watcher’s that he or she hasn’t seen it yet, so if you let something “slip,” do not, under any circumstances, feel like you must say sorry. If, however, you go on to shove your pointer finger up the new enthusiast’s left nostril to teach him or her a lesson, you’re on your own.

Please, thank you, and you’re welcome.

Image Shot by Mark Brothwick via Style Rookie