SDTC Finishing School

By Karen Cleveland
I’m old school. My parents raised us that it’s not polite to talk about money, even in general context. It was imbued that discussing how much you earn or spend was gauche, and that simply no good could come from it. And I still think there’s merit in that.

We’re now in a consumer climate, however, where bragging rights for a bargain are touted with pride. Perhaps it’s the Winners mentality, or coming out of a recession, but it’s become more and more commonplace to flog, “I got these shoes for $50.00, half off, can you believe it!?”.

What’s still vague, and often awkward, is that a bargain for someone, can be a full-out splurge for another. Regaling tales of scoring 30 per cent off a $1,500 pair of Valentino heels might not be fitting to share amongst company who’s version of a great deal is a sale at the Gap. Our retail climate is a jumble of high-end and low-end (what designer hasn’t done a guest line for a mass retailer?) so take care not isolate people around you, regardless of where you shopped, or however great of a sale you found.

And in return for your anti-snobbery, may you be blessed by the shopping Gods, wherever you spend your hard-earned dollars. Amen.

Karen Cleveland
I don’t know about you, but I cannot wait to put February behind me. In general (and Toronto, in particular), it seems like the past few weeks have been fraught with tragedy; a steady stream of bad news.

And, sigh, the sad fact is that the bad stuff in life comes along with the awesome stuff.

If someone close to you has had a rough go (and not just a shitty day, but truly bitch-slapped by life: death or sickness close to them, laid off, broken up with, a miscarriage…the heavy stuff), give good friend.

Be respectful but present. Don’t address their heartache publicly, but offer a private acknowledgement (a card or flowers sent to their home or a thoughtful email) that they can take in, in their own time. The offer of distraction can be welcomed too, perhaps in the form of a movie, wine and takeout, with the topic of their sadness strictly verboten, unless of course they want to talk about it.

If you happen upon the wounded in person, keep a strong front and take your cues from them. If you enter a room, and give the archetypal “I’m soooooo sorry, are you ok?” with your head tilted (you know, that head tilt), it might trigger tears. They might be looking to you for strength, so try your best to give it to them.

If they want to cry, let them cry. If they say they need space to lick their wounds, give them space. There’s comfort in knowing that people are thinking of you, so try and convey that however feels more appropriate. “I’m thinking of you” goes a long way.

By Karen Cleveland

An acquaintance of mine divulged a gaffe that I couldn’t help but share (anonymously, bien sur)….oh dear, what a conundrum.

She’s simply burnt out at work: too many late nights, too many weekends and desperately needed to blow off some steam. On a school night, after clocking in a heroic Wednesday at the office, she looked for respite and found it on Ossington, in liquid form.

Nursing a violent hangover, she called in sick and took the day off. Fast forward to Friday, she comes into work, bright-eyed, bushy-tailed (and sober), and her colleague boasts, “Wow, you were so drunk Wednesday night! I saw you getting into a cab, you couldn’t even walk!”.

In front of her boss.

Busted.

My advice to her? I’m going old school here, but honesty is really the best policy. Fall on your sword. You got drunk and missed work, really an act completely undeserving of sympathy. Chin up and come clean to your boss that you acted irresponsibly, and that it won’t happen again (depending how guilty you feel, you could offer to take your sick day unpaid). And by golly, it better not happen again….in fact, your behaviour should overcompensate for your screw up.

And don’t throw a tantrum on your colleague for blowing your cover. It’s not her problem you slipped up. You might want to coach her on what’s appropriate morning office banter, your drunken-debauchery notwithstanding. Save that conversation for down the line.

For interest’s sake, the girl that this happened to had a melt down and started to cry, telling her boss that she’s so stressed and the pressure she’d been feeling was just too much. Her boss could easily infer that when stressed, this girl drinks too much, then misses work. Not good.

By Karen Cleveland

When thinking about conventions of breaking bread, etiquette is often discussed in the context of being a good host. But being a good guest is equally important. Yes, of course, the obvious tenets of arriving on time and not showing up empty handed apply (because you called in advance and asked what you could bring, right? And even when the response was a resolute ‘nothing, really!’, you brought a bottle of wine anyways, right?), but consider your performance during the main event – dinner.

Your host is likely looking to you for cues on whether you’re having a good time, so be mindful of that. Certain questions carry some weight, too, so when asked “how’s your dinner?”, know that responding “not bad” sends a dreadful message. Not to suggest that you need to lavish superlatives about a meal that is just ok, but come on, give a little – if you sincerely mean “not bad”, how about softening that with saying“really nice, thank you!” or “this salad/liver/cheesecake/chicken is great”, instead?

By Karen Cleveland

Buying gifts is tough. And you’re likely a hard person to shop for, too. So what’s a girl to do if she’s been bestowed a gift that isn’t really her? Regift? Return? Learn to love?

The window of time to make a decision is short (which the gift receipt will surely remind you). Consider who purchased the gift – perhaps they hand-picked it just for you, and confiding that it’s not really your style will hurt their feelings. In addition to hurt feelings, it might also give the impression that you’re difficult to please, or gasp, snobbish!

On the flip side, if you tell Auntie Margo that you absolutely love the baby pink wool mittens, you very well might get a new pair every birthday and every Christmas from henceforth. Perhaps honesty may be the best policy.

Tread lightly, this is sensitive stuff. Do you detest it so much that it can’t find a place in your wardrobe/life/heart? What’s to gain (and what’s at risk) by divulging the gift didn’t cut it? Be sensitive, and grateful, of course.

By Karen Cleveland

When asked to attend a a dinner party with 11 strangers (ok, nine strangers…there were a few familiar faces), even this social butterfly got butterflies in her tummy. Awkward talk about the weather? Or a night of shop-talk? Blech.

To my pleasant surprise, my well-matched dinner companions were full of lively discussion -- but that conversation was greased by thoughtful planning on behalf of host and organizer Marcello Cabezas.

His tips for keeping the L12 dinner party series lively might also help your next dinner party banter from going dull.

· Round up a group of like minded people (although interests and professional background can, and should, vary widely)

· Don’t be afraid to ask bold questions, but ask them to the masses, so no one feels put on the spot (the money question last night? “What did/do you wish your mother understood about you?”)

· Be inclusive and if someone is lagging out of the conversation, make an effort to subtly bring them back into the food.

· Good food served family style (encourages interaction) and a reasonable amount of alcohol encourages chatter.

by Karen Cleveland

There have been volumes written about tragic goodbyes.

But hellos can sting just as harshly. What breaks my delicate, genteel heart? Being introduced to someone and whilst they still have my hand in theirs, they scan above my head (ok, the height is in their favour, but still…) looking for who else they want to meet. What a douche move. When you’re meeting or greeting someone, give them your undivided attention, or simply wait for a better time to make introductions. If you innocently look off, call out your gaffe before they do and apologize for the distraction, you thought you recognized an old friend, etc.

And if your distraction wasn’t so innocent? Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down on those room-working skills, shooter.

by Karen Cleveland

There's nothing worse than someone giving you a kiss hello, thinking it's over, and then they lean in for the double cheek kiss. You end up bumping noses or landing one right on the lips.
Can it be more awkward?
Are there rules? Goodness knows there should be. How close do you lean in? How long do lips maintain contact with cheek? Is there contact at the entirely too ubiquitous air kiss? Kiss on one cheek? Two cheeks? What side first?
It would seem that inelegance occurs when the kisser and recipient are on the fence about what is going to happen. If you’re going to go for the double kiss, do it with full conviction, so the recipient knows exactly where you are headed (literally). Typically, whether you’re serving up a single or a double, you start with the right cheek, because most people are right-handed and you’ll naturally lean in to that side. If you’re still shaking hands, maintain the grip. Or, you can rest your hand lightly on your co-kisser’s forearm, or shoulder (waist or chest territory can send a different greeting message all together: not always a bad thing). Whilst leaning in to kiss/be kissed, keep the contact very light (really more of a cheek graze than a full smooch) and if you like, offer a ‘how are you” or “nice to see you” to soften the interaction. The “mwa, mwa” sound is a bit Fran Drescher for me, but I digress.
If you offer your hand to shake with a softened elbow, it’s more inviting to be pulled in for a cheek peck. A firmer, more extended arm puts more space between you, and is less kiss-friendly – and if that’s your comfort zone (hello, flu season), stay right within it. You’re certainly not obliged to give or receive a kiss.

When recently in England, equal time spent in London and the gorgeous countryside, I was struck by the juxtaposition of textbook perfection manners, and that infamous stiff English upper lip. The right words, but delivered in a ho-hum expression (not quite a scowl, not quite a smile…remember the opening bus scene in “Shaun of the Dead”?).

In Canada in general, and Toronto in particular, I think our version of cordiality is warmer. When we say our pleases and thank you’s, we say them with conviction. When I’d get pleases and thank you’s across the pond, in a charming accent of course, sometimes it felt like due diligence lip service: well-intentioned, but dare I say, insincere?

It became a game for me to see in how many mundane interactions (buying coffee, asking for directions, service at bars and restaurants, etc.) I could crack that austere front, and make someone make eye contact, smile, or raise a bit of intonation in their voice. You know, stir up a bit of life.  The good news is that I was happily surprised. Time and time again my efforts were reciprocated. For sharing the same language and monarchy, it was an interesting social experiment to see just how different our conventions are.  So while that stiff upper lip is a good front, there’s a bit of Canadian tucked inside every English folk that I met (just have to coax it out of them, a bit. Maple syrup, perhaps?).

As an afterthought, maybe if they shared our same tipping conventions , they’d have a bit of love in their service….

We’ve taken it on the chin, repeatedly, when you strike at your leisure. And in an-ever-passive-Canadian-way, we patiently wait through endless service delays and disruptions. The mess that is Queen Street right now, ripped up and overturned with streetcar track renovations, is taking me on the scenic route as of late, with the route diverted reasonably. Fair enough.

The mean drivers however? Not so reasonable.

Me, the other day – work burnt, heat stroked and gym bound: “Hi [yes, chirpy tone and smile], do you go to Pape?”
Driver, with apparent chip on his shoulder: “No”.
I look up at the route sign on his fancy streetcar, “You’re going east though? Are you short turning”.
Driver: “no”.

His second terse response made me rage. In an instant. Me, red-faced, voice-raised: “This is a really fun guessing game. Can you please tell me where you’re going, explain the route? Want a chalk board, draw me a little something?”

He rolled his eyes with such intensity that I was sure he was having a stroke. After that, he pulled it together and explained his detour.

It took me the entire duration of my ride (an epic haul, given said stupid detour) to calm down. And then some. I’m waiting for the evidence to materialize but I’m sure this experience gave me either a gray hair, or shaved a few hours off my life. It’s there a meanie-quota mandate at the T.C.C.? Shouldn’t all of their drivers be really happy and satisfied, in light of their wants being met through strikes? Gosh, I mean, what else could you possibly want for? [Wait…I bet I’ll find out soon, when you strike. Again].

T.T.C. – I can appreciate that many of your roles require the skill to operate heavy machinery. Some roles, however, necessitate interacting with the public. Hiring accordingly, please.