One might think that dishing out etiquette advice would be an easy gig. People as silly questions, you provide silly answers based on common sense and a little research. Most people get to be amused by an edited version of the transaction. While all of that is true, nothing is ever quite as easy as it seems. Most importantly, people don’t actually want to be told answers that they could have figured out on their own.
I’m not sure I learned that lesson in time to avoid bombing out completely from this gig.
I’ve had a couple of strikes against me from the start. First and foremost I’m completely at odds with my assigned pseudonym. I’m hardly a “miss”, I’m not exactly prudent, and I’m not exactly qualified to give advice. But how hard could it be, really?
That is one rhetorical question that should give more people pause than it usually does.
So here I am, threat of failure and threat of being outed keeping my creative writing going. Cringing every time the phone rings.
Avoiding the bright lantern of truth like the plague.
Avoiding the inevitable bomb dropping of my true identity.
Avoiding both tea and beer for no reason at all.
Sticking to it despite a seemingly endless fount of stupidity driving people to write for advice.
Yes, stay in school. No, don’t run away with your sister’s girlfriend. Yes, follow the law. No, don’t sue (or cry) over spilt milk or spilt coffee. No, don’t look behind the curtain and reveal the charlatan.