Cover up

Mask-wearing has gone from being a socially responsible habit to becoming a class issue

I was at a wedding reception last fortnight when I first noticed it. The guests were pairing their best finery with their most dazzling smiles. But the staff that was serving them in uniform were all wearing masks. From the valets who were helping to park cars to the waiters who were passing around the snacks; from the chefs who were slaving over hot stoves in the open kitchens to the bartenders mixing cocktails with a flourish: every single person in a service role was wearing a mask. And everyone who was being served was barefaced. 

That’s when it struck me: mask wearing has gone from being a socially responsible habit to becoming a class issue. It’s only the serving classes who are expected to follow Covid protocols while the rest of us merrily contaminate the air with all our germs. 

Now that Covid seems to be on its way out with a negligible number of cases being reported every month, the upper and middle classes have decided to ditch their masks. But the same freedom has not been granted to those who serve them, both within the home and without. These people are still expected to mask in the presence of their supposed betters, offering them an illusory sense of safety from the virus. 

Take a look around when you are next on the road. It will be easy to tell the cars that are being driven by chauffeurs. Not because the drivers are all wearing peaked caps but because they are the ones who will be masked while the sahib and memsahib in the back seat stay cheerfully barefaced. The chances are that when you visit a friend’s home, the ‘guard’ manning the main gate will be masked. In a restaurant, the diners will not be masked (even when they are not eating and drinking) but all the waiters and waitresses will be in masks. On aeroplanes, the passengers will be unmasked — ignoring the announcements asking them to keep face coverings on at all times — while the flight attendants will have surgical or N 95 masks on. Even in hospitals — where, surely, mask-wearing should be mandatory — the patients tend to eschew masks while the staff attending to them stay masked. 

I am not sure when this divide became the norm. Or even why it became the norm. But I can hazard a few guesses. 

First up, of course, is the fact that we are an inherently classist society. And that if any sacrifices need to be made on the altar of public health and safety, then we think it only right that these sacrifices are made by those who are paid to serve us. 

Then, there is our tendency to see those who serve us as essentially sub-human. We don’t see staff as human beings in their own right but as ciphers whose only purpose in life is to make our lives easier. So, we think nothing of asking them to stay masked in all circumstances even as we breathe free. 

And finally, there’s the most important factor of all. We ask those who are below us in the food chain to keep their masks on for one simple reason: because we can. And with that, we are the ones who are unmasked in more ways than one. 

Breaking bread

Dinner party etiquette can get tricky – especially in the post-Covid era

 

With Covid restrictions becoming a thing of the past (mask? What mask?), dinner party season is truly upon us. And after avoiding socializing in large groups for two years, I have begun accepting a few invitations that involve dining with a larger number of people than I am used to. 

 

With every such event, though, I come back feeling just a tiny bit discomfited. It’s not just that I suspect I may have contracted Covid (though that is a constant worry) but that I fear that I have lost the art of dinner-partying during the many months of Corona-imposed solitude.

 

Here are just some of the questions that keep popping up in my brain:

 

·       How does one decode the timings on invitation cards? It sounds simple but it is anything but. I have arrived on time for a 7.30 pm invitation to find that the host himself has yet to reach the venue. Having learnt my lesson, I arrived an hour later at the next party I was invited to, and was crushed to discover that I was the only one holding up the dinner seating. So, what’s the magic formula to decipher which party will begin on time and which will take hours to get going? If there is one, I have yet to crack it.

 

·       Is it still okay to plead pandemic-related paranoia and refuse to shake hands with people when you are introduced to them? I have to confess that I still do that on occasion though my husband frowns upon my ‘germophobia’ and thinks that I risk coming off as rude. So now I have hit upon a compromise. I carry a small bottle of hand sanitizer with me and use it liberally in between introductions. Some of my friends maintain that this borders on bad manners. They believe that I should, ideally, excuse myself and perform my hand-sanitising routine in the privacy of the bathroom. I am not quite sure where I land on that.

 

·       While on the subject of introductions, I have to confess that I find it tedious beyond belief to respond to ‘And what do you do?’ questions from a roomful of strangers. I am often tempted to respond with, “I am a private detective” if only to liven up proceedings a bit. But where does one go from there? Are you then obliged to keep up the fiction forever more? Or should you fess up to the truth before the party is over. I know which option I prefer. But you may, of course, beg to differ.

 

·       If the person seated next to you is completely uncommunicative, then is it your duty to keep the conversation going, even in the face of monosyllabic responses? In my younger days, I must admit, I treated these scenarios as a challenge and tried my best to draw my taciturn dinner companions out. Now, I simply can’t be bothered. Life is too short to struggle to make small talk with someone you likely will never see again in your life. In such circumstances, silence is golden.

 

·       At what stage does it become plain bad manners to inflict your dietary requirements on your hosts. Everyone, for instance, is well-equipped to deal with vegetarians. But you have to make that extra effort for those who profess to be vegan. And don’t even get me started on vegans who are also gluten-free. Frankly, if you are so fussy about what you put in your gob, then simply stay home and eat your nut cutlet in peace. Or if you must come to dinner, then just bring your dinner along in a dabba. Problem solved. 

 

·        Is it ever acceptable to leave a sit-down dinner before dessert has been served? The grounds may vary from a) I don’t have a sweet tooth b) it’s way past my bedtime or c) I have a long drive home. I only ask because I see this happening again and again, as the dinner table starts wearing a deserted (I really wasn’t going for the pun; but whatever) look once the main course has been cleared. In my book, this qualifies as rank bad manners, and an insult to both the host and fellow guests. But what do I know? I sanitize my hands after shaking them with people!