DEAR MISS MANNERS: The hospital in which I work has instituted a new format for its identification badges. The wearer's first name is now presented in large, bold print, whereas the last name and degree, e.g., R.N. or M.D., are small and barely visible.

According to those responsible for this change, "the format on the system has been setup for all first names to be slightly larger to provide better visibility to the patient."

Why this needs be is a question begged. One wonders if the onerous, reciprocal transgression, that of health care workers addressing patients by their first names, has somehow exacted an ironical price.

GENTLE READER: Of course it has. Long after such inequality was abolished in other places of work -- where bosses had routinely demanded to be addressed formally while they called their employees, especially female employees, by their first names -- doctors continued to get away with it. Miss Manners is only surprised that patients took this lying down for so long.

The situation needed to be rectified, but, unfortunately the method used, in your hospital and elsewhere, is not to grant titles of respect to all, but to grant them to none. The real price paid here is in dignity.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: Nowadays, it's common for friends to trade Internet "screen names" in the same manner they would exchange phone numbers. The idea, as you are doubtlessly aware, is that when both people are online, they type messages to each other.

The trouble that I'm having is that I type very quickly and accurately, and I keep my English skills in check at all times.

This is a problem because it's very trendy and popular to abbreviate just about everything that can possibly be abbreviated. "You" turns into "u." "Two," "too," and "to" all turn into "2"s and so on.

In most cases, such as in writing out a formal letter or thesis, near-perfect English is a strength rather than a weakness, but I don't want to make the person I'm talking with feel like I'm trying to impress them or (worse yet), make them feel inadequate and self-conscious.

I have resorted to actually purposefully making typographical errors and slowing down my typing speed, but I feel like I'm lying to them whenever I do that. I even asked my mother -- who is somewhat well-versed in social protocol -- and she accused me of being pompous and arrogant for even thinking that I type "too quickly for them." All I want to do is make my conversational partner feel comfortable! Please, Miss Manners, what is the solution?

GENTLE READER: Listening to mamma. Like Miss Manners, she believes in doing what is right, without getting all puffed up about it.

:

DEAR MISS MANNERS: Are there rules of etiquette about going through revolving doors? I work at the National Gallery of Art, a normally well-mannered area, where I have seen for years groups of people walk up to the revolving doors, and almost always the group allows women to proceed first into the revolving doors.

The doors are quite heavy and not easy to turn. Invariably, the women struggle with pushing the doors around to gain entry. I've witnessed the "grandmother" of the group in this situation.

Shouldn't men enter revolving doors first to push the doors around for those who will be following?

GENTLE READER: Yes, but it is all they can do to remember the rule "ladies first," without straining themselves to deal with the exceptions. (In addition to revolving doors, these include going downstairs and exiting from buses, trains or airplanes, where the idea is that if the lady should trip, she will at least land on something agreeable.)

A colleague of yours has invented the solution of making a complete turn in the door, so that he can both go ahead of the lady to push it and allow her to enter the gallery first. Miss Manners worries about this. A concerned lady might keep going around herself, so that she can inquire, "Aren't you coming in?"

If amusement of this sort is what is required, there is a carousel nearby for the purpose.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: The small parking lot at my son's kindergarten is often full, but there are many nearby spots on the street, and I have recently started asking people who park in the fire lane and start walking away to please move their cars.

If they apologize and move, I say "thank you," but a more typical response (and here I am paraphrasing) is that it is none of my business.

Is this true? Does the requirement to not interfere with other peoples' lives extend to pretending not to notice nonfelony rule-breaking? Because we are not the police, is it best to just say nothing when we see someone leaving their fast-food wrappers on the bench at the bus stop, not cleaning up after their dog in the public park, slipping some small item into their pocket at the store, or leaving their car in the emergency lane?

GENTLE READER: It is best not to impersonate a police officer -- or, for that matter, a kindergarten teacher -- who has caught someone breaking the rules and whose job it is to teach the offender a lesson.

Miss Manners assures you that this does not constitute a total ban against noticing other people's transgressions. It does, however, rule out going about town reprimanding them. Thank goodness for that; if not, Miss Manners would not be able to navigate a single block without inviting a fight.

What you can do is offer to be of help. You did say "please," and Miss Manners hopes it was attached to: "Please excuse me, but I'm afraid you didn't notice that is a fire lane. There is parking on the street," and not to: "You can't park there. Please move your car this minute."

The politer form gives the violators a way to move while admitting to nothing worse than an oversight. Being polite does not protect you against those who are determined to be rude, but it protects you from joining them.

Should they refuse to cooperate, you can take a lesson from the kindergartners themselves: Tattle to someone in authority.

:

Time was when one of the ladylike accomplishments was disjointing a beast upon a platter. Hostesses, as much as hosts, were expected to possess the skill of carving meat, so as to be able to offer sustenance to their guests from their very own hands.

Later, for reasons that are mysterious to Miss Manners, it came to be considered manly to dismember flesh. The proper hostess then took to tea, priding herself on the special way she concocted the brew that she handed around.

The ingredients were tamer, if not tepid, but the idea was the same. These were not practical divisions of chores. There could be vast numbers of competent servants standing by, prepared to whisk away whatever flew off the host's knife or race in with hot water for a hostess who might be innocent of the process by which it is possible to turn cold water into hot.

The idea was to stage a demonstration that hospitality involves making a personal effort on behalf of others. There are just enough variables in these procedures -- light meat or dark, strong tea or weak, lemon or milk -- to indicate attentiveness to individual preferences. The symbolism of these rites speak to the second most important function of nourishment, right after filling the tummy: peaceful and generous sharing.

There is also a long tradition of guests helping one another. In earlier and less fastidious times, dinner partners ate from the same helpings of food and drank from the same cups. Well into the 19th century, food platters covered the fashionable dinner table as well as the homely one, and guests were expected to be solicitous of those who sat near them.

Although mealtime itself is now disjointed, and hands-on food has become more of a problem than a metaphor, some of the historic tradition has managed to survive. At our holiday meals, some leftovers from these traditions appear at the table.

Such meals are among the few occasions that meat is carved by the table. In many cases, a gender distinction remains with the host carving the meat while saying to the hostess, "I could carve this perfectly well if you gave me a sharp knife."

An abundance of filled platters covers the table. This inspires the diners to make revolting noises and remarks indicating the likely results of their being tempted to overindulge.

The effort that has gone into preparation is recognized:

"Why do you insist on knocking yourself out making everything from scratch? Just get carry-out. Nobody'll ever know the difference."

Individual preferences are acknowledged:

"Do you know what that would do to my cholesterol?"

"Yuck, I hate that."

"Of course it counts as meat. Anyway, now I don't eat poultry or fish, either."

"No, this has some stuffing clinging to it. I can only have protein."

"Could you have made one thing, just one thing, that doesn't have a million calories in it?"

"I knew there wouldn't be anything here I can eat, so I brought my own."

And in the spirit of the occasion, everyone tries to look after the others at the table:

"No fair, you had the drumstick last year."

"You know you're not supposed to eat that."

"You don't need that dessert."

"I'm finished, so why can't I leave the table? Why do I have to keep sitting here?"

DEAR MISS MANNERS: My family and I recently spent a few days at a beach hotel that offered its guests a "free continental breakfast." Lovely idea, of which we did partake on our last morning.

Something I observed made me wonder if there was a change in the Canons of Etiquette that made it acceptable for some hotel guests to wear their pajamas to the dining area to pick up their breakfast.

GENTLE READER: Only if they wear their bathrobes over them and pretend that they are wearing bathing suits underneath because they are on their way to the beach.

: