This week we’re on to part two of etiquette. Part one can found here.

We left off talking about handshakes. We’ve covered “the boneless shake” and “the double pumper” so now we’re on to the last two.

The bone crusher. I don’t know what motivates people to pull a bone cruncher. If it’s to intimidate, it rarely works. When someone gives me the bone cruncher I always know I’m dealing with an asshole. In rare cases it can actually be painful and in those cases it is socially acceptable to break his wrist, throw him or double grab and head butt, however, these are rare circumstances and we’re getting off course.

The last abominable handshake is when they just hold on too long. Any handshake that lasts longer than two seconds is over the line and I’m taking my hand back one way or another. Caveat venditor.

Let’s move on to general behavior. Having little education is not a breech of manners. According to Post:

People who say “I come,” and “I seen it,” and “I done it” prove by their lack of grammar that they had little education in their youth. Unfortunate, very; but they may at the same time be brilliant, exceptional characters, loved by everyone who knows them, because they are what they seem and nothing else.

I agree. However, the opposite also applies:

But the caricature “lady” with the comic picture “society manner” who says “Pardon me” and talks of “retiring,” and “residing,” and “desiring,” and “being acquainted with,” and “attending” this and that with “her escort,” and curls her little finger over the handle of her teacup, and prates of “culture,” does not belong to Best Society, and never will! The offense of pretentiousness is committed oftener perhaps by women than by men, who are usually more natural and direct. A genuine, sincere, kindly American man—or woman—can go anywhere and be welcomed by everyone, provided of course, that he is a man of ability and intellect.

I don’t think that requires any clarification. When I see people acting like this in a social setting I usually set them up and expose them, politely and subtly, as frauds, assholes and pretentious pricks. I love the bating game in a large crowd of pretenders.

Earlier in the week my wife had a serious discussion with me about my last etiquette post.

“Do you think I’m refined?” she asked.

“Absolutely. Why?”

“Because I didn’t go to a fancy boarding school. I’ve had no privileges. I wasn’t born into money.”

“The same applies to me.” I said.

“But you somehow know about all this stuff. From your mother, didn’t she go to some finishing school?”

“Doesn’t matter. We weren’t rich. We parted ways with that side of the family in spectacular act of free will over money grubbing. To hell with them. I was a still pretty young. I didn’t go yachting or play polo or any of that shit.”

“But I feel like a fake. I mean, we’re not filthy rich or anything.”

“If you won the lottery this week, would your opinion of yourself change? Would your manners suddenly be legitimate?”

That stumped her. I could tell she was thinking, perhaps, yes. Her refinement would be more legitimate if she came into a lump sum of millions.

“Do you think that I’m refined?” I asked.

“Yes. You are definitely refined. I’ve seen you with diplomats and senators and shit. You know the protocol. You’re at home in five star restaurants. You speak other languages.”

“I can easily say the same about you. All of the above.”

“But I didn’t know all that when I met you.”

“You knew a lot of it. Regardless, you have refinement now. When you go into a five star joint you know how to act, how to order. The wines, the languages. All the manners. You’ve met very, very important people. You’ve dealt with the customs of other cultures when I forced you on business trips…some of those people were billionaires for Christ’s sake. Trust me, you are refined.”

“But I feel like I was faking it.”

“If you actually know it, you’re not faking it. You actually have exceptional social graces. You’re not pretending. You actually know this shit and it’s become natural.”

“But I feel like I’m faking because we’re not gazillionaires.”

It was a strange but fascinating conversation. The bottom line is that there are things money can’t buy. Aside from health and other obvious things, it can’t buy character, bravery and such. It can’t buy knowledge. You can’t buy a black belt in martial arts. I mean, you could, but you wouldn’t really have it. Poor people could kick your ass. Only drudgery can get you some things. Money and social graces are not mutually exclusive. We both have better manners than a lot of people five generations into old money.

You probably do too.

I always liked watching the Three Stooges because they were often involved in some high society party or something where all the guests would be handing out calling cards and the butler would be announcing people and those idiots would come in and start fucking around and the rich people would be appalled and faint and everything. I guess the reason I find that stuff so funny is because I could easily be on either side. Except for the millions.