Sit up straight.
Hold your fork like a pencil, not a shovel.
And whatever you do, don’t do anything until your host does it.
You’re in the diplomatic corps now, bub. And protocol is no place for sissies.
OK, right about here is where you start thinking, “Protocol, schmotocol. I’ve got good enough manners to keep my tie out of the soup.”
Not so fast, businessperson. Ever heard of the global economy? An estimated 85 percent of all business deals are negotiated at the dinner table. And there’s more to dining protocol than not dipping your napkin in your water glass to get that soup off your tie.
Besides, even if you never get closer to an embassy than the International House of Pancakes, civility is in.
I know, because Dorothea Johnson told me so. Nicely, of course.
Johnson is director of The Protocol School of Washington, which earns its bread–buttered one bite at a time–by teaching protocol and etiquette to businesses and governments all over the world.
Protocol and etiquette are the “ultimate business tool,” says Johnson. “There are a lot of intelligent people, but not a lot who are polished.”
You can count food editors in that lot. On the unpolished part, anyway. For the annual Association of Food Journalists meeting in Washington recently, eight embassies agreed to host food writers for formal dinners.
And that meant a session with Johnson before we headed out to our assigned countries (mine was South Africa). We may know our peas, but our q’s needed some help.
Details, details
So, first things first: Stand when somebody important enters the room. Don’t sit before the bigwig does. Don’t put your hands in your pockets while you talk. And for heaven’s sake, don’t slouch.
“Good posture denotes power,” says Johnson.
If there’s a line (receiving, not buffet), give your name and the name of your town to the aide, who presents you to the ambassador, who presents you to his wife.
They smile, you smile, everybody smiles. Isn’t this nice?
“Niceness gets results,” says Johnson.
Then you shake hands. Web to web is the rule. That means you smack your hand into the other person’s hand clear up to your thumb.
OK, you’re through that gantlet. Into the dining room, where you find your name on the place card and take your seat, from the right side of the chair, please.
The next rule is simple, says Johnson: Follow the leader.
Study the place setting and note the location of the forks. Utensils are always used from the outside in (you probably learned that in grade school). Then you wait. When your host picks up his napkin (unfolded on the lap, not shaken open in the air), you pick up yours. When your host picks up his fork, you pick up yours.
If there’s a toast, you lift your glass after the bigwig lifts his (or hers).
International manners dictate that you keep your hands visible during the meal. That means you don’t rest one hand on your lap while you eat. Oh, and you never rest your elbow or forearm on the table. You may rest your hands on the table, but not your wrists. In practice, this means that by dessert, your arms will be very tired. I told you–this is no place for sissies.
During dinner, remember the Silent Service Code. These are little signals you send to the servants. If you’re putting down your fork and knife but you’re not finished, you cross them, fork on the left, knife on the right, in the 7:25 position. That says, “Don’t touch that dial, Jeeves.”
If you’re finished, you place your fork and knife (blade in) together across the plate, in the 10:20 position. That says, “Take it away, Jeeves.” And it lets Jeeves pick up the plate with one finger across the silver, so it doesn’t rattle. See? Silent.
After dinner, you don’t stand up or place your napkin on the table until your host or hostess does. Heaven help you if you’re a slow eater.
With a few more quick tips–in Mideastern countries, it’s time to go when they serve the rose water–Johnson has done her job. We’re thoroughly intimidated.
OK, that was the theory. In practice? Thank heavens for the Sonns and the South African Embassy.
Ambassador Franklin Sonn and his wife, Joan, came to Washington three years ago. They’re delighted with the changes in South Africa after the end of apartheid. They’re interested in forging new ties with America. They’re not interested in protocol.
Joan Sonn laughs and shakes her head when I ask her, during polite dinner conversation, about whether she was trained in protocol. They were supposed to attend training in Pretoria, she says. But then she and Franklin looked through the manual and said, thank you, but no.
They knew how to entertain, she says. Franklin Sonn was the head of a school that became a university after apartheid (there were no universities for blacks before that). But protocol? They don’t stand on formality.
All that training and worry, and our dinner at the embassy ended up like a cozy dinner party, or as cozy as a dinner party can be at a table that seats 24. Lots of laughing and jokes around the table and gentle talk about politics.
And that’s the way it should be. Before she set us loose, Dorothea Johnson had shared a quote from Will Rogers:
“Don’t take yourself too serious. Just live in such a way that you wouldn’t be afraid to sell the family parrot to the town gossip.”
Just don’t forget to send a thank-you note.
