Friends · Letter 49
The Dinner Has Not Been Ratified
Fictional editorial letter
Dear Duck,
I invited eight friends over for dinner. My husband offered to “help coordinate.”
He has now sent everyone a registration form asking whether they are attending as a guest, stakeholder, or observer.
I selected guest. He said that was presumptuous because applications had not yet been reviewed.
My sister asked what to bring. He told her contributions require prior approval. She brought wine anyway, which is currently being held pending a second.
The agenda includes a welcome, introductions, approval of the previous dinner’s minutes, and a fifteen-minute discussion on whether bread should be circulated clockwise.
There are no previous minutes. Last time we just ate.
One friend ticked “hungry” under special requirements. My husband asked him to be more specific.
The lasagne is getting cold. Everyone has been seated for forty minutes. My husband says we cannot begin because we don’t have a quorum.
There are nine of us in the room. The tenth is upstairs printing the attendance sheet.
I love this man. I don’t want a divorce. I would just like permission to pass the potatoes.
— Pending Approval
Dear Pending Approval,
Sergeant Pelican. Retired.
Twenty years working a beach in Hawaii. Never once saw a hungry person improve after being assigned a reference number.
Your husband has mistaken eight friends and a lasagne for a governing body. Understandable. Both contain layers. Only one should require a knife.
First, release the wine.
It has committed no offence. If he insists it needs a second, open another bottle.
Then put a serving spoon in his hand.
“You’re in charge of portions.”
This gives him authority, a defined territory, and immediate consequences for standing around talking. A useful appointment. Very few survive contact with gravy.
Do not argue about the bread. Pass it anticlockwise once and observe whether civilization ends.
If he requests an independent witness, hand him a fish.
If he questions its qualifications, hand him a second fish. The first one saw everything.
I used this procedure at a reception once. Both witnesses were subsequently consumed by the chair. The committee found no surviving evidence of misconduct. Refreshments were excellent.
Now, about the quorum.
The tenth person is upstairs printing proof that he is downstairs. This is not a shortage of people. It is a surplus of husband.
Go upstairs. Bring him back. Leave the printer.
Tell him, kindly and in private:
“I asked you to help me feed our friends. I did not ask you to establish a small republic in the dining room.”
Then thank him when he actually helps. You want the man back, not merely his resignation.
At midnight, I can stand at the door with my bill open. Everything attempting to leave with an unfinished action item goes into the pouch.
That’s not governance. That’s catering.
Eat while it’s hot.
— Sergeant Pelican, retired
No attachments. You wouldn’t want them.
Answered by Sergeant PelicanGuest responder. Retired, technically.Original character by Clark Devereaux. Quack-world development by Arion with Jason Pistillo.