Etiquette is one of those things that’s meant to be on its way out. To attempt to bring some old skool decorum and manners into your daily life will cast you as a throwback, a dinosaur, or worse, if you’re a man, a rampant, unreconstructed sexist. Open a door for a woman? Sexist. Offer her the better seat in a restaurant? Sexist. Compliment her on her attire, and be prepared for an immediate visit from HR.
The other day, as one of our lifts reached the ground floor, I waited until all the women had got out first. Which would have been fine, if the last one to leave hadn’t looked at me as though I were Prince Andrew. I suddenly felt as though I was very obviously and extremely publicly about to order a takeaway from Pizza Express. The one in Woking.
