Infeliz Cumpleanos

[This story, by a friend, was in my inbox this morning...]

I felt sorry for a friend who is having a rough time, so I agreed to go to her birthday dinner at (insert Nuevo Latino Mission District restaurant name here - no, not Cha Cha Cha; the other one) with a few other friends of hers. I ordered an entree that cost $14. I also politely took a token 1/8 of a shared appetizer I didn't order or want ($2?), a cup of coffee ($4?), leading me to believe I would be spending $20 plus tip and tax, so about $27 for me. Hmmm. Not a value, but within budget.

I was okay with spending that to show her my support and have pointless conversations with her excruciatingly boring friends (one was interesting,
and she is interesting). I was brought out and examined by everyone asking me questions about myself because I am so "interesting," which believe me, gets so old I can barely stand it ("So, what is this (insert name of interesting-but-not-lucrative small business my friend runs) (insert name of Birthday Girl) mentioned?").

I was also poured a glass of cheap sangria from a pitcher, which I didn't want or drink ($6? Plus tax and tip another $8?). So, now we're up to $35 for me. Well, this week I can afford it, I guess. Oh, and then there's the fact that the birthday person can't be allowed to pay. Well, then between all of us, perhaps another $5 each. So, $40 for me to pay.

Okay.

Then I was informed that the bill would be divided evenly of course, since none of us are CHEAP, ha ha, so mine was the same as the man across from me who doesn't work because he can afford to not work, and who had drinks, an appetizer, steak, dessert, etc.

$66 I paid.

That is the end of my story. Not exactly a tragedy, but I really would have preferred to stay home and sit in bed for free, and eat some crackers. Or maybe to just roll around in the sixty-six dollars in ones and five-dollar bills.

[My response:]

Every time I read First World Tragedies like this I sigh to myself and think "if only people would READ Miss Manners and take her excellent advice to HEART,
none of this would have to HAPPEN." She covers this exact scenario in more than one of her books. She advises Birthday Girls (and Boys) how and why to spare their friends this sort of agony; more importantly, she shows all of us how to say No, graciously, when we find ourselves in this particular flinty circlet of hell. Dante didn't describe it, but Miss Manners has the power to rescue us from it just the same.

[Now, the above story reveals not a little of my friend's particular personal neuroses, but more importantly, it reveals a vital point that we need to remember yet again as this year's birthdays start to approach. (Or is just me who seems to have a lot of friends with springtime birthdays?) Funerals are for the survivors, and birthday parties are (primarily) for the guests. If it's your birthday (or if you're hosting a friend's birthday party as part of a misguided ploy to get off cheap), you must plan accordingly, and you must plan ahead; otherwise, next year you may find yourself celebrating alone.]

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