How To Be Unpopular On A Holiday

Auckland Star, Volume LXX, Issue 303, 23 December 1939, Page 3 (Supplement)

How To Be Unpopular On A Holiday

A LITTLE incident that a friend of mine witnessed the other day has set me thinking on the question of manners. A man went into a shop and asked for a large tin of something or other. He was told the shop had only the smaller size. "Then why do you advertise the large size?" he asked. It was explained to him that since the advertisement was published the large size had gone out of stock. The would-be customer left the shop without a word of thanks or a flicker of sympathy, and the staff and onlookers had not much doubt that he thought be had been ill-used. 1 wonder what this man is like on holiday?

Manners are a seasonable subject just now, because tens of thousands of people will be taking their holidays soon, and the smoothness of these holidays, and consequently their enjoyment of them, will depend partly on the consideration for others that holiday-makers show. The crowding of rqpds and resorts, and the extra strain placed on all who serve the public, make good manners and general sympathy all the more necessary. A famous English writer wrote an essay on "How to Fail in Literature." Perhaps it would help the cause of good manners if someone were to compile and distribute a little brochure on the same lines—"How to be Unpopular on Holiday." Motorists would be adviped to do quite a number of things, such, as to drive on the middle of a long straight bitumen road at twenty, with a string of cars following, and on muddy roads to pass other cars at such a speed as to splash their windscreens and drivers. The same thing done on a road where there is a little loose metal may subject other users of the road to a sharp bombardment. Little tricks like this are good for motorists; as David Harum said o£ fleas on dogs, thoy keep them from brooding on being motorists.

By Cyrano

' When the motorist comes to rest, hp has ample scope for the e*ercise of had manners, and this applies to all users of the- countryside. Besides lighting fires in' dangerous places, he can leave gates open, and introduce his dogs to the farmer's sheep. If firewood is short at his camping place, he can pull a few payings off the farmer's fence. The farmer won't miss , them, and if he does happen to appear on the scene and make a fuss, why worry? He won't go to the trouble and expense of prosecuting. The traveller can make himself unpleasant in quite a number of ways. Like a man who once annoyed a friend of mine, he can eat pig's trotters in a railway carriage and drop the bones on the floor. He can smoke in a aon-smoker; keep breasted up to a refreshment counter until he has finished his pie and tea, while others crowd behind him to be served; talk loudly in his bedroom until after midnight (you know what our hotel bedrooms are often like); and monopolise the only newspaper for half the morning or evening. tie can stroll into dinner at 6.45 when he might just as easily have done" so at 0.15, and linger unnecessarily over his meals woen the staff want to clear away. He can drop bis cigarette butts on ' floors or stamp them on polished surfaces. And through it all he can make it plain that, uo matter how difficult caterers may find it to satisfy the unusual demands of holiday traffic, he means to have all his rights. That's what caterers are paid for, isn't it! If a hotelkeeper at the back of beyond can't keep up an establishment on city lines, he shouldn't be in the business, that's all.

However, there must be a section in our brochure for caterers. They, too, have many ways of making themselves unpopular. There is the old grievance of bedrooms with unsuitable reading lights, and switches far removed from pillows. (It is curious that some hotel proprietors provide much appreciated hot water service in bedrooms, but continue to neglect the refinements of lighting). There is also the little matter of menu cardg. It won't do to provide each table with a menu card, for that woul<J give each guest time to plan his meal without being embarrassed by a waitress at his elbow, and therefore make the house popular. Before breakfast tea should never be offered with m<ve than one lump of sugar, for there are people who would like two. Ink that flows freely and pens that are not corroded points are as dangerous as brown bread and plenty of fresh fruit at meals. Why should a hotelkeeper forgo the easier method of getting fruit out of a tin? And if he wishes his home to be unpopular, he should regard th e traveller from a purely utilitarian standpoint, as a source of profit. He should therefore 9°t study hig wishes, and should remain strictly in the background The personal welcome, the friendly good bye, introduce into the business of catering a disturbing element of sentiment.

Let all parties try to be bad mannereu and unsympathetic, and they will come to the end of the holidays satisfied that they have fought hard and successfully for their own hands. Local bodies may help in the good cause by keeping their town clocks chiming and striking all night. I heard the other <&y of one town in which tbe clock is muzzled at ten every night, but this gesture to those who like a quiet life is to be deprecated.