Debrett's British Behavior I to O

Debretts British Behavior I to O

Informality
The days in Britain when men referred to or introduced each other by their surnames, when office hierarchies were minutely calibrated by the use of the prefix ‘Mr.’ or ‘Miss’ are long gone. Informality is the order of the day and first names are becoming the rigueur; even in professional situations, when dealing with doctors, lawyers, policemen, bank managers, informality is being adopted.
The use -- or not -- of first names still remains generational; the older you are, the more you think it natural to be Mr., Mrs., or Miss; the younger you are, the unimaginable this seems. For many older people the easy adoption of the first name is seen as offensively over-familiar.
The use of the first names is meant to imply intimacy but this has become a cheapened currency when used, for example, by waiters. “Hello-my-name-is-Terry-what-can-I-get-for-you-this-evening?” trotted out in a monotone, actively puts a distance between you and him. Don’t confuse natural courtesy with the packaged, processed wholesale adoption of over-familiarity: waiters, call centre operatives and salesmen are not aiming to be your friends, so why are they telling you their first names and calling you by yours?
In many parts of Britain you may be called by catch-all ‘affectionate’ names, which have been part of the currency of communication for many centuries. Do not be offended, this is quite normal. For example, you may be called dear, dearie, flower, love, chick, chuck, me duck, me duckie, mate, guv, son, according to your sex, age and location.
There is much to be applauded here - empty formal conventions are alienating and impede communication. But traditional failsafes are very useful when you find it difficult to judge the social climate. If in doubt, opt for formality.
Nevertheless, if you have erred on the side of informality, remember that it is better to have agreeable manners and call someone by their first name, than be rude to someone while rigidly adhering to correct form and using their surnames.

Introductions 
If you are the link between people who have never met it is up to you to make the introductions.

If you are the link between people who have never met it is up to you to make the introductions. Remember the hierarchy: men should be introduced to women, juniors to elder people and higher ranks. Introduce individuals to the group first and then the group to the individual. For example, ‘Mary, this is Jim, Bob and Sue. Everyone, this is Mary.’
Unless the occasion is formal there’s no need to mention surnames. If possible, offering a little information about each person as you introduce them (‘Rupert and I were at school together’) will help to break the ice.
The traditional British greeting on introduction is ‘How do you do?’ The appropriate response - however strange it may seem -- is to reiterate the phrase ‘How do you do?’. In situations where this exchange may seem to formal, a friendly ‘Hello’ will usually do.
At an even more informal level, if someone says ‘Hi, how are you?’ or ‘Hi, how’s things?’ -- the response should be positive and upbeat: ‘Fine thanks, and you?’ or ‘Fine thanks, can’t complain’.

Invitations
There are many formal occasions in British life when ‘correct form’ is preferred.

Jokes 
The British are addicted to jokes, seeing them as an effective emotional release. 

Aliens landing in Britain would be bemused to find that we have a day officially devoted to jokes, April Fool’s Day. The British are addicted to jokes, seeing them as an effective emotional release; post-disaster jokes are tasteless, tactless, cynical, exploitative and often horribly funny. 
But the beauty of a joke is often lost on the beholder. Jokes can wither and die in the face of incomprehension or be artificially applauded in the name of ‘politeness’: a rich man’s joke is always funny. Worse still, a joke can alienate or even cause offence, both in joke-teller (“they just don’t get my sense of humor in this country”) or in the audience, (“actually, my wife is blonde and that’s just rude.”)
As in all things, moderation is the key. Telling a joke can be a real conversation-stopper - if you’re itching to relay the rib-tickler you heard earlier, appreciate that it will be disruptive, and tell it as quickly as possible before returning to real conversation. 
The second rule is to match your material to your audience: a filthy gag that had you and your friends weeping with laughter is probably not one to tell on your first day in the office. Great-Aunt Myrtle does not want to hear the latest blonde joke; that first date may not appreciate an erectile dysfunction side-splitter. Now, have you heard the one about the Englishman, the Irishman and the Scotsman?…

Social Kissing
Social kissing is becoming increasingly popular in Britain, but it is still a potential minefield.

Social kissing is becoming increasingly popular in Britain, but it is by no means an accepted norm, and therefore is a potential minefield.
To kiss or not to kiss? This is usually dependent on situation, age, background, profession and your relationship. As a general rule, don’t kiss people you don’t know. Don’t kiss colleagues. Do kiss close friends and dates. The key is to make your actions clear to avoid embarrassing confusion.
Usually it’s right cheek first, but prepare to change direction at the last minute. Pull back decisively (but don’t be too abrupt) if you are just giving one. Be cautious with those you are less familiar with - two might seem over the top. If confusion occurs over one-kiss-or-two, take charge and go in for a second. Humor is useful in deflecting embarrassment over the meet-in-the-middle mix-up. Three kisses is definitely too many.
Just holding cheek against cheek feels insincere (air kissing with “mwah, mwah” side effects has become synonymous with shallow superficiality) but there is a fine line between an acceptable pack and an overly affectionate smacker.
Cheek skin must make brief, light contact; sound effects and saliva traces are to be avoided at all cost. If you’d prefer to shake hands, be sure to hold yours out before any kissing manueveres begin but, if you’re part of a group introduction, don’t be the only non-kisser at the party.

Loo
Guide to Loo Etiquette

When nature calls, either slip away quietly or excuse yourself from the group. Leave it clean, always flush and never discuss.
Generally, loo is the preferred term. ‘Ladies’ or ‘Gents’ in public venues is also widely used. ‘Lavatory’ is unambiguous, while ‘Toilet’ is the internationally recognized word, but may still raise an eyebrow in more class-conscious circles.
The British have a range of euphemisms and circumlocutions for the loo: including ‘bog’ (vulgar and masculine), ‘little girls’ room’ (embarrassingly coy), ‘powdering one’s nose’ (equally coy) and ‘pubic conveniences’ (a bureaucratic evasion). ‘Spending a penny’ is an archaic term that harks back to the days when public ‘conveniences’ were operated by a penny slot machine in the door. All of these terms are best avoided.
In some clubs, hotels, restaurants, railway stations and department stores, you will encounter a loo attendant -- always leave some small change in their tip bowl.

Members’ Clubs
How to conduct yourself as a member or a guest at members’ clubs

‘I refuse to join any club that would have me as a member.’ -- Groucho Marx

If you have membership of a private club don’t ever boast about it. If you are inviting guests, be aware that they may not know what to expect and keep them informed; are ladies permitted? Is there a dress code? Accompany them into the club or meet them at the door so you can sign them in.
If you are a visitor yourself respect the club’s codes of conduct. Emulate the behavior of members, dress appropriately and don’t tip the staff.
It is generally considered a bit desperate if you ask someone to nominate you for membership of their club. It is best to wait until you are ‘invited’ to join. Remember that you will be a reflection them if they put you forward - make sure you ‘fit in’ to encourage that much coveted invitation.

Discussing Money
Discussing money and openly comparing wealth are traditionally taboo areas in British society
Discussing money, openly comparing wealth, talking about how much things cost -- these were all traditionally taboo areas in British society.
But things are changing. At dinner parties across the country, civilized people are comparing their house prices, marveling at the cost of each other’s cars and revealing their bonuses and salaries. Where once an overdraft was a dirty little secret between us and our bank manager, now we discuss our debts shamelessly. We live in the Age of Information, with transparency as the new buzzword, right down to the see-through pay packets and credit cards color-coded as to the bearer’s wealth. 
Somewhere along the way, we’ve forgotten the reasons why discussing money never used to be the done thing; so let’s slow down for a minute and consider. We still live in a world of economical imbalance -- there will always be Joneses to keep up with. So is it not a better, friendlier approach to keep such inequality as under wraps as possible?
Bragging about one’s bonus is a transparent, and primitive, bid for supremacy: it just heightens the difference between your financial situation and that of the person you are talking to. Complaining about shortage of money all too soon tips into Micawber-like wheedling, guaranteed to make the people around you feel guilty.
Money is the oil that greases the wheels of society but oil is filthy sticky stuff and we should clean our hands of it before coming out in polite society.

Ostentation 
Discretion about wealth and worldly successful is the order of the day

The British are said to be resentful of success and comfortable with failure. It is scarcely surprising then that ostentation was never a quality that was admired or emulated. Discretion about wealth and worldly successful was the order of the day.
This old-fashioned restraint is dwindling, and it can sometimes seem that ostentation is the guiding principle of the modern world -- the bigger the bank balance, the more flamboyant the toys, the showier the bling-bling, the more column inches. There are whole industries of publicists, PR execs, agents, managers and spokespeople who live to show off; whole rafts of the media whose sole aim in life is to report such ostentation; and whole sections of society who enjoy nothing more than reading all about the yachts, the parties, the million-dollar-necklaces.
Despite this new interest in the trappings of material wealth, there is a strong feeling in British society that ostentation is vulgar. The wealthy aristocrat, secure in his stately home and thousand of acres, who wears ancient tweeds and drives a battered land rover, is a British cliché. There is an underlying suspicion that being flash with the cash is a terrible give-away; what it reveals is that the cash is a newly-acquired novelty, not a birthright. 

Over-Familiarity 
Common to all is the hair-raising chill and miasma of dread that heralds the over-familiar

It’s the left hand sneaking round the back of your elbow as you shake hands. It’s the sly nod and the conspiratorial wink in conversation with others when you’ve got no idea why you are suddenly linked. It’s the ‘darling, sweetie, love’ from someone whose name you are still struggling to remember. It’s the horror of meeting someone at a dinner party who within seconds is confessing their inability to hold on to a boyfriend. Common to all is the hair-raising chill and miasma of dread that heralds the over-familiar.
Taking intimacy for granted is a sure-fire way to estrange; slapping your new boss on the back on your first day has you destined for the post-room. If familiarity breeds contempt, over-familiarity propagates pure bile. Over-familiarity often masks, at best, offputting insecurities and, far worse, a real idleness.
People who think they can go straight into Intimacy without passing Go and without slogging through all the Old Kent Roads of developing a relationship do not deserve to have a Monopoly on your friendship. After all, true friendship is not a game.

Over-Reaction
We live in an age of burgeoning over-reaction and it’s getting exhausting

It is no longer enough to win a prize in a competition and say, “Oh jolly good. Thanks awfully,”; we must scream and yell and clutch our faces in dumbfounded disbelief. It no longer carries any weight when we tut and shake our heads when queue-barged at the supermarket; we must shout and stamp. Children are no longer satisfied with a pat on the head; they must be congratulated at every turn, praised effusively for merely trying, let alone winning, and generally made to feel like gods and goddesses. We live in an age of burgeoning over-reaction and it’s getting exhausting.
Where do we go for our reactions to real achievement, real despair, real anger? Strangely, back round the circle to the smallest reaction of all: silence. Far more affecting than the wailing and weeping at Princess Diana’s death was the silence with which the crowds greeted her funeral cortege. When giving a child a present, far more touching than an overblown yell of ‘Awesome!’ is seeing the look of speechless wonder that crosses their face. You know you have fed a roomful of people well when they’re too busy eating to remember fulsome compliments and empty flattery.
Of course, over-reaction is often a mask for unworthy real feelings -- the exaggerated mugging smiles of the passed-over Oscar nominee, the ‘Wow!’ Isn’t it gorgeous!’ when your child hands you a misshapen excuse for a clay pot - and it is surely politer feign an exaggerated polite reaction than show the real negative one?
The trouble is that the currency of reaction has been terminally devalued: the more showy the fake reaction is, the more obviously counterfeit it is. React in a measured way. Avoid the empty posturing and bring back the subtler measures for which British society was once famous.