DEAR MISS MANNERS: I have attended several courses and workshops, some costly and all scheduled for a limited time period, and I am made uncomfortable right from the start.

The first thing the course conductor does is to order the participants, one by one, to identify themselves and divulge personal information to the roomful of (mostly) strangers. I don't want my privacy invaded and my safety compromised; I want the conductor to get right to the course material!

Nothing is stopping the course attendees from getting to know each other on their own if they have the inclination. I believe this time-wasting and nosy practice should be eliminated.

GENTLE READER: This is one of those leftovers from the popular therapy craze of the second half of the 20th century, when it was believed that people accomplish more when they become pals. It is in direct contradiction to what every schoolteacher knows about separating friends during class.

Miss Manners would have thought that the custom had been dropped by now. Surely we have all sat captive through enough long professional and personal resumes, in both the bragging and the whining modes, to know better.

When your turn comes, you can at least not add to the tedium. You need only state your name, your profession if it happens to be related to the subject matter of the course, and your level of ability in regard to the class. Having been regaled by others, your classmates are not likely to beg for more, but if they do, you should reply modestly that this is all that is relevant.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: Last month, my husband and I invited a former colleague of mine over for a casual dinner. After an enjoyable meal, my colleague's husband announced that he had to make an 8 p.m. conference call.

I offered to let him use our den for privacy and he emerged 145 minutes later to announce that he had just helped found a new (rather radical) political party in our state. We congratulated him on his accomplishment and enjoyed a heated political debate before he went home.

I opened our phone bill last night, shocked to see a rather large cross-country phone call made the evening of his visit. I had assumed that he used a toll-free number or at least his own calling card and am surprised that he did not mention that he made a direct-dial call. Should I confront him with the bill or consider it water under the bridge?

GENTLE READER: How deep is the water under that bridge? Miss Manners would have been tempted to pitch your guest overboard for the crime of doing business at your house during a social engagement.

But then she supposes she would have tossed him a lifeline, for humanitarian reasons and also so he could live to pay the telephone bill. Send it to him with a note saying that he probably needs this as a record for his expense account or taxes when he reimburses you.

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Could you people try talking to one another?

Oops. The last thing Miss Manners ever thought she would do is encourage what was known as, in its faddish heyday, "communication."

That was the non-electronic version, when people were encouraged to face one another to divulge all their deepest thoughts and feelings. The premise was that we were naturally so virtuous and compatible that all human friction resulted from a "failure of communication" worse than the kind the power company promises to fix so long as you'll stay home and wait for a week.

It was believed that any personal conflict could be cleared up if only we turned off that artificial, if not dishonest, inhibitor, tact. There were, however, small miscalculations in this formula that began to appear when it was eagerly adopted. It turns out that not every thought or feeling we have, even about the people we love, is benign. Furthermore, there are people whom we do not love, and when they reveal their innermost souls to us, we care for them even less.

Poor Miss Manners was still cleaning up the mess left by free and frank communication when along came e-mail. Now we could reveal ourselves to total strangers. We could say what we really thought of people we know, but had not meant to tell them -- until we hit the wrong button on the keyboard. We could bombard people with communication until they howled for mercy, and they did.

So let's not have more of that, please.

What prompted Miss Manners to encourage a simpler kind of communication was an innocent enough question:

"I live far away from my mother, who became a widow in 2000, and send lots of letters to her," wrote a Gentle Reader. "What is the appropriate way to address the envelope? She was married to my father for almost 44 years, so I want to respect that, but I don't know if I should address mail to her by her first name or Mrs. This has bothered me for almost two years."

Ever eager to be of help, Miss Manners was about to reply that a lady's name does not automatically change when she becomes a widow, as many erroneously suppose, but that the overriding consideration is how the lady herself wishes to be addressed.

But wait just a minute here. Why was this Gentle Reader bothered for two whole years without thinking of seeking relief with a simple, "Mother, what would you prefer?"

This happens to be an issue on which there is no prevailing agreement at the moment (thus creating etiquette havoc, but that is another story). Often, questions that arise among relatives or friends are about matters not even under the jurisdiction of etiquette -- little habits or failings that are known to drive another person crazy but will not be given up unless they can be officially declared rude.

Miss Manners is not trying to shirk her job. She is happy to cite rules and precedents, to referee disputes and to supply polite ways to tame the obstreperous. The words "Do whatever makes you feel comfortable" have never passed her lips.

But while it is against her professional interest to say so, there do exist situations in which personal preferences may be honored. She can at least definitively state that it is rude to annoy your intimates when information about what their personal preferences are is easily obtainable.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: Four of my friends forgot my birthday. I understand that this is something that happens as one grows older and friends move, but what do I do the next time I speak to these people? Should I mention the wonderful birthday activities I enjoyed? Or should I just be direct and remind them that they didn't acknowledge my birthday? All of these ideas seem somehow passive-aggressive.

GENTLE READER: Why, so they do. One might get the impression that you intended to shame them for a phenomena that you yourself identify as inevitable.

If you insist upon doing this, Miss Manners would prefer that you use the polite method. That is to say nothing now, and then make a big fuss over their birthdays.

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: My fiance and I are fully furnished by way of traditional wedding gifts such as kitchen appliances, home-improvement items, etc. However, we are in need of cash to help us with a down payment for a new home. What is the proper way of letting our friends and relatives know that in lieu of wedding gifts, we would benefit more from money toward a down payment? Do we still need to register?

GENTLE READER: By all means. Miss Manners feels that registering with a reputable charity drive, if they will take you, is so much more dignified than going begging among your friends.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: Who makes the rules, where can I find them spelled out, and why must I follow the purely arbitrary ones if they make life more difficult for all concerned?

For example, a friend recently chided me for not blackening the wicks of candles before setting them on the table. I think I understand why it is gauche to use utilitarian things as decorations, but since I was going to light the candles before we sat down, what was the necessity of preburning the wicks? She did not mention the copper watering can that I use as a vase on the patio for garden- and wildflowers. Is this subject to the utilitarian rule?

Also, it seems to have become popular for people who are being toasted to drink to themselves. It's a little odd. The idea of toasted parties offering the next toast to sort of get even doesn't seem popular anymore, either.

And why is it bad manners to lift a glass of water in a toast? There are always one or two people who, for whatever reason, are not consuming alcohol (and if the reason is a weight-reduction diet, they are not going to be drinking fruit juice or soda, either). Why must they be made conspicuous by not joining the toast? Can they use sparkling water with a bit of lemon? Who decides this (besides you, of course)?

Frankly, I think it is ruder to call attention to minor infractions that are neither unattractive nor offensive than to enforce them. But there's always someone who pipes in with a comment, and I don't know where he got his rules.

GENTLE READER: Be grateful for those rules. There is a major one that forbids calling attention to minor infractions that are neither unattractive nor inoffensive-- and Miss Manners doesn't know where your friends get their manners.

As you are kind enough to acknowledge, she is in charge of these things -- all but the ban on toasting with water, which is a superstition, not a rule of etiquette. Please be so kind as to inform your critics that she does not require their assistance. In addition to the big violation of annoying you, they are bad at infractions.

The blackened wick rule is to indicate that candles are not being used the pretentious way many people use guest towels -- for show only, never to serve their proper function. To put fresh candles on the table and light them before dinner is a perfectly proper procedure. And Miss Manners would really have to have run out of things to do to make a case against using a water can as a flowerpot.

The rule against drinking a toast to yourself will not be repealed, no matter how many people you see disobeying it. As you know, they are supposed to look modest and grateful, and then to propose a return toast. It strikes Miss Manners that the violators have a lot to be modest about.

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