I’m tempted to post a sign on my office door: “This office does not support the use of the word ‘busy.’” First, let me explain the subject and verb. A few years ago, I received email responses from Institutional Computing personnel that began with, “This office does not support the use of…” It struck me as a diplomatic but also, officious strategy for saying, “We won’t allow…”
Now, to the crux of this hospitality rant. When did the world stop realizing that the question “How are you?” is only phatic conversation and not a sincere query? When did the world begin to respond in detail, prefacing lengthy explanations with, “I’m so busy…”? or worse…”I’m too busy.”? What are the inhospitable subtexts of this seemingly innocent assertion of being "busy"?
Inhospitality subtext #1: "I'm far busier than you are." But how could said “I” be busier than Hospitality Morality--the vanguard of global hospitality? And even if said "I" is the leader of the free(ish) world, is it polite to brag, sigh, or rant about it? Being busy is like being sick. Rarely does anyone else care.
Inhospitality subtext #2: "I'm more important than you. Honestly, we all know that “busy,” is code for “important.” “I’m so busy” is a thinly disguised taunt of "I’m so important,” which doubles as a challenge.
Faithful readers, it is our duty to counter these inhospitable attacks with a lesson: nothing is more important than the work of hospitality morality. Consider that every human encounter and relationship--public and private--revolves around the reward, power, intrigue, protection, and risk of hospitality. Every single face-to-face; voice-to-voice; and even, text-to-text hinges on hospitality. And if we are hospitable, we are peaceful, generous, curious, tolerant, and charitable. In short, if everyone acted hospitably, we would eliminate all major problems—aggression, hunger, homelessness, global warming, ennui, and prejudices—with the possible exception of really bad diseases. As such, we can imagine no nobler calling than to investigate, understand, and practice hospitality. Let us go forth and educate the "busy."
Henceforth, please, be advised that in all future conversations, HM does not support the use of the word “busy.”
Look for an upcoming Hospitality Fatality on "I'm so stressed."
I always seem to sit behind the airline passenger who reclines the seat into my lap. I'm not talking about a gentle 15 degree recline. I'm talking about a barcalounger-footrest-extended 60 degree recline. As far back as the seat will go. And then, there are the barbarians who add random jostling to insure that I lose even more comfort space. Is there anyone reading this who can explain to me how this, albeit airline-licensed, practice is hospitable? I'm willing to be educated. Or better yet, let's change places and I'll fly in your lap.
I'll keep my first "Hospitality Fatality" rant short. I must be dense because I don't understand why being a vegetarian constitutes grounds for canonization. You know what I'm talking about--the occasional eating companion who pompously declares, "I'm a vegetarian" as if the rest of us are cannibals. Exactly what is so magnanimous about not eating meat and seafood? I want to reply, "Well, good for you. Chomp on them veggies." I'm not irked at all vegetarians, just those self-righteous ones who think it's somehow sanctimonious to bypass tortellini with truffles (where, exactly is the meat in that?) for a bowl of lettuce, shredded carrots, and sliced cucumbers sans dressing. Let's face it. We have no clue if and who washed those veggies. Quite possibly, my succulent tortellini is the healthier order. (At least that's what I'm telling myself.) But despite my frustration, I promise to avoid the temptation to retort, "I'm a carnivore." I do so swear, with you as my witness, to abide by hospitality morality codes. Until then, I just want to say, "Come on, let's just order, eat, and get over ourselves." Enough said.