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(I Know All There is to Know About) The Glaring Game
I adore the English. My late husband Don was English and my husband Nick is as well. My best friend is English. I’m as literal an Anglophile as it’s possible to be. But there are some drawbacks.
The English tend to be more diffident than Americans, to apologize more often, and to be much less assertive about their wants. On the other hand….
On the other hand, they still mind when they are unhappy. Of course they do. It’s just that if you’re the cause, you’re less likely to hear about it. Which means that you don’t have the chance to do anything about it.
It took me a long time for me to realize that part of the English idea of politeness is---I’m quite serious----not to complain even when they are unhappy with things. They don’t in general seem to have a program for complaining politely or tactfully. If they complain, they are likely to be extremely blunt and ungracious. In general, though, they register dissatisfaction through indirect/ambiguous signals that it’s quite possible to overlook or misinterpret, even for other English people.
I love the English, but I can’t stand it when people won’t just say what they want from me. I also can’t stand it when they actually do that, but do it tactlessly or outright insultingly. As a result, my encounters with English people---have I mentioned that I love the English?---haven’t been uniformly pleasant. I sometimes have managed to offend them. I have occasionally—horror of horrors---been the recipient of the silent or veiled reproach.
I hate it when they do that.
English people often deploy the glare when annoyed or outraged. As wielded by an English person experienced in its use, it’s a mightily effective weapon if you are easily cowed and if you happen to care about being glared at. My husband has raised his voice to me during our four year marriage only three or four times. When he is annoyed, he uses blame rays to convey his anger. If someone stands in your vicinity, silently emanating blame, it’s very difficult to ignore it. But there are limitations to the effectiveness of the glare as a means of getting people to stop doing what they want and do what you want.
The glare is not a precision weapon, particularly not when deployed against complete strangers. It doesn’t work at all if the person who has offended you isn’t actually looking at you. It doesn’t work, for example, if she has her back to you or if she is completely unaware of having done anything offensive. In the second case, even if you get right up in her face and glare, she is not going to put two and two together: she is going to assume that you are trying to suppress a belch or a fart or a sneeze or---if the glare is extreme and alarming---that you are on the point of dropping dead of a stroke.
While visiting among the substantial British community in Florida, I once went with some friends to a British pub (or ‘British’ ‘pub’). It was wall-to-wall Brits, packed much more closely together than the average American from my particular region---we literally need our space---can endure. I looked round for a seat and sat down. After a few minutes, my husband muttered, “I think you’ve taken someone’s seat.’ He nodded toward a disgruntled looking man standing a few feet away, glaring at me. When I looked up, he caught my eye, moved forward into my direct line of sight, and intensified the glare. I said, “Oh my God, excuse me I didn’t mean to take your chair I’m so sorry!” and got up instantly.
So the first lesson I’d like my British friends to learn is that glaring doesn’t work if the person being glared at doesn’t know THAT you’re glaring or WHY you’re glaring.
The English---so Rumcove and my husband have told me--- don’t feel entitled to make demands on others and, according to my husband, they feel apologetic about asking other people to do anything for them. But that doesn’t mean they don’t want things done for them. So why don’t they ask? It’s easy enough to ask for your seat back tactfully. Adopt a warm tone of voice and a diffident smile and say, , “Sorry---I hate to bother you----but actually I believe that was my seat.” Who could possibly be offended by that?
The problem with hating to ask for what you want is that you often don’t get what you want even if the other person would be happy to give it to you.
Of course, the power of the glare can be used for punishing unintended social offenses as well as a way of making someone aware of a trespass on your rights. I have experienced the glare as a welcome of aggression as well as rebuke.
A few years later when I was dining out in London at an unpretentious Greek restaurant, my dinner companion---a conventionally burly police officer we’ll call Bazzer---said something to me while I was trying to swallow a mouthful of water that made me laugh, causing the water to go down the wrong path, and producing a violent fit of choking. When it had subsided, I looked up to see a manglaring at me with the same expression from two tables away---or maybe he just had really bad indigestion. “Bazzer,” I whispered, “I think that man is glaring at me. Should I say something? Apologize?” Americans really have no problem with apologizing; no one feels that they lose any face by doing so. The reverse, rather. On the other hand, I wasn't even sure he was glaring.
But Bazzer said, “Leave it with me, mate.” Half rising from his chair---did I mention that he is on the large side?---he locked eyes with the man and glared back at him, till he dropped his eyes. So I guess we won? But did the man even know why Bazzer was glaring at him?
It's all so ambiguous! Is it supposed to be so ambiguous? I don't get it.
Especially since there’s the whole question of politely complaining when you aren’t being attended to properly, when you’re not getting a thing or service you’ve paid for, or when someone is happily oblivious to your discomfort. It’s okay, English people! It’s okay to say that you need your check, need help, are uncomfortable and tired. It’s better to complain (politely) than to blame!
The facts in evidence:
1. While sitting at the bar in a restaurant in one of the touristy parts of the state, I once saw an English man try to ask for the check in the English manner---by catching the bartender’s eye and making scribbly motions in his hand. The bartender, a splendid and very friendly young man, smiled and nodded back at him, unaware of the significance of the scribbling. Instead of saying, “Excuse me, but could we have our check now?”, the man carried on with the eye-catching and scribbling motions, becoming progressively more furious as the affable bartender continued to ignore him. (Why do people—it’s not just the English---do that? Why when something doesn’t work do they go on doing the same thing?) My husband finally took pity on him and said, “Tod, that customer over there would like to have his check now.” Apologizing profusely, Tod gave him his check instantly.
2. When my husband first visited me here, I took him to a raucous neighborhood bar where they served ‘Buffalo chicken wings.’ I knew he liked chicken so I ordered a dozen for him. When the meal came, they looked really delicious, and I’d really have liked a couple, but it was a new experience for him and I didn’t want to deprive him, even though he offered. Later, when we’d left, he was very ill. “I can’t really tolerate hot food,” he admitted, “but I didn’t want to offend you.” Really? He didn’t want to offend me so much that he was willing to risk gastroenteritis? Because honestly---saying “I can’t really eat hot things” wouldn’t have offended me either before or after he’d ordered them, and certainly wouldn’t have been as upsetting as having a guest get sick after a meal I’d given him.
3. When another English guest was visiting, I took him on a trip to a really charming town on the Gulf called Cedar Key where some sort of arts or arts and craft festival was going on. I took him to a well-known restaurant and afterwards we strolled around looking at the exhibits. In the car on the way home he was very quiet, staring out at the landscape without giving much indication he was seeing it and answering in monosyllables. “What’s wrong?” I kept asking. He kept saying “Nothing,” because that’s another way of making the other person responsible when you finally break down and say what you really think. “That walk went on too long,” he said. “It’s really hot and I had a blister on my heel. I was limping along. It’s not really that enjoyable to walk for miles and miles in this heat with a blister on your heel.” Why would anyone do that---hobble around miserably in the hot sun without saying a word?
4. At a truly execrable all-you-can-eat breakfast establishment in one of the tourist towns where the food is plentiful and bad (don’t ask), I encountered an English man milling somewhat discontentedly around at the bar where the entrees were being served. “What’s wrong?” I asked him. “Well,” he said, “the eggs have run out and the rest of it’s cold.” “Have you spoken to the manager?” I asked. “Oh no,” he said, looking alarmed and backing away from me. “I’m sure they’ll bring more out eventually.” I marched right up to the nearest food service person---I mean it’s a restaurant where you pay to get food and service and subject to stringent state law about food temperature and handling---and said, “Listen, the eggs are all gone and everything’s cold. Could you do something about that, please? Thanks.” “Sorry,” said the lackadaisical, tourist-hating employee. “Now, please, if it’s not too much trouble,” I said, “and by the way, I’m local. And I bet this display is in violation of about 10 different code requirements for food handling.” She put out more eggs and replaced the cold dishes. Meanwhile, the man looked mortified, though he muttered 'thanks' sheepishly to me when it was done. Did he think I was being rude? Rude to a restaurant?
5. I was visiting a couple I know in Norwich who were planning some sort of function in her sister’s honor (I believe to celebrate their engagement). I knew, and they knew, that prior to the day, the house was going to need to be thoroughly cleaned because (though it was quite clean already) that’s what you do. I just assumed that I would pitch in because that’s also what you do when you’re visiting. So I was morally outraged when, the day before, my friends began to drop hints that they might need my help. “I don’t know how Jim and I will manage to get it done all by ourselves!” said Susan, wringing her hands. “Oh, I hope we can manage it in time,” said Jim sorrowfully. “We’ll need to sort out your room too so the guests can leave their coats there, so I hope you won’t mind if we turn you out tomorrow.” “What are you talking about? I’m going to be helping you!” I said indignantly. Both of them instantly relaxed and smiled with relief. But why didn’t they just ask? If you frame it so that you leave the person a choice, how is it bad manners or rude or presumptuous to say, “Damozel, just say no if you’ve made other plans, but I could use some help in the kitchen and in the upstairs bathrooms?” Or better yet, why didn’t they assume that someone they’ve known well enough and long enough to have her staying in their home would have the basic decency and manners to do the right thing without being asked? Why the hints? Why the indirection? Why?
So this is one arena---getting unmet needs met---in which I feel that American candor is superior to English reticence. Take responsibility for the treatment you receive in life, English people! It’s better to complain than to allocate blame!
RELATED POSTINGS:
RELATED POSTINGS
(I Know All There is To Know) About the Glaring Game
The Glaring Game Part 2: Nature or Nurture?
God is an Englishman. He Lives Upstairs and He’s Never Mentioned.
English Placenames: The Cirencester Problem.
An Update on the Cirencester Problem
XXX (Of a Sort) from the Mother Country: Mr. Rumcove & the Very Cruel Poll
Estuary Englishman
Wandering Scribe?
The Office UK—Accept No Substitutes [television review]
A Proper Gallows Laugh Requires A Stiff Upper Lip (British Comedy)
Tea. How It Happened to an American.
No Ordinary Profile: The Talented Mr. Rumcove
The Two Floridas
Image drawn by Mr Tenniel; painted by Damozel.
10:52:41 PM 
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