DEAR MISS MANNERS: I started a new job as a mental health technician, and one of the therapists I work with always has a cloud of perfume around her. It is so bad that every time she walks into the same room as me, her perfume triggers my asthma and I have to leave the room.
If I have a severe asthma attack, I can -- and do -- have seizures afterward. Thankfully, I have had my rescue inhaler on me and have used it every time. Still, these attacks leave me feeling weak and off-balance.
I would just avoid this woman, but I am supposed to update her on what I have observed with the patients. Also, I can’t avoid her because I cannot see her: I have severely low vision, and cannot see that she is nearby until I smell her perfume.
Is there anything I can do about this? Is there a polite way to tell her that her perfume is too strong and ask her to tone it down?
GENTLE READER: Next time you are discussing patients, mention apologetically that more than one has told you that her perfume causes them to have allergic reactions. This will make it a question of patient care -- and not of her potentially putting you in the hospital.
Miss Manners understands that this technique will not help people who do not have patients, customers or other innocent people to “target” in this way. But the basic idea is to shift the blame from the perfume to the reaction. If that means seeming to be apologetic about one’s own allergy, then that is unfair, yes -- but it does solve the problem.
DEAR MISS MANNERS: My husband and I love to cook. We often host small dinner parties for up to eight people, which is the max that our small dining room can comfortably hold.
Now, it has happened in the past that one or two guests have had to cancel on the day of, when we have already prepared most of the food and set the table. Would it be appropriate at that point to reach out to family or friends and extend a last-minute dinner invitation? And how would you word that?
I wonder this because I come from a culture in which impromptu dinner invites don’t raise an eyebrow, but where I live now, dinner parties seem to be more formal affairs. I worry whether my last-minute guests would feel like second-class ones -- which I definitely don’t want them to! I am just happy to share my cooking, and in these cases, I happen to have some free spots up for the taking.
GENTLE READER: Such invitations should be treated like gifts of hand-me-down clothes: only to be offered to your most intimate friends and relatives -- those you know will not be offended when you tell them, honestly, that they are doing you a favor to fill in.
And since we are being frank, the honesty that Miss Manners intends you to practice is to explain why the invitation is coming so late -- not that they will be seated next to your neighbor’s husband, who is a crashing boor.