DEAR MISS MANNERS: Occasionally I come across a customer service policy that is designed to serve the company better, as opposed to the customer. In those cases, I realize the representative is simply relaying the message and most likely had nothing to do with putting the policy in place. Yet I can’t help but show my displeasure to them, as they are acting as the face of the company in that moment.

Do you have a polite way to address this in the future so that I don’t feel I’m flogging the messenger?

GENTLE READER: We expect companies to operate within both social norms and the law; we do not necessarily expect them to be altruistic or work against their own self-interest.

Miss Manners therefore expresses neither cynicism nor disparagement when she expects all company policies to serve the interests of the company: Even a lenient return policy presumably does so by building customer loyalty.

A good company policy serves both company and customer. What you are describing is a bad company policy, which is one that appears to take advantage of the customer. In these days of instant online reviews and customer boycotts, companies promulgate such policies at their peril. The less-understood cost is the wear and tear on their own staff, who are forced to represent the policy and deal with the understandable wrath of you, the customer.

How do you object to the policy without killing the messenger? With a polite but firm demeanor, and a willingness to follow the process through the chain of command -- asking for a manager when a representative is not empowered to solve the problem -- rather than degenerating into a yelling madman.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: My mother, who doesn’t drive anymore, was invited to a wedding about four hours away from the city where we live. I offered to drive her there and said we could spend the night in a hotel before driving back.

Somehow, the groom’s family (the mother of the groom was my mom’s friend) learned that I was in town and insisted I attend the wedding as well.

Beside the fact that I was looking forward to a relaxing few hours sitting by the hotel pool and reading, the wedding was an expensive, formal affair at a very posh country club. I was not prepared to attend a wedding, nor did I want to, not knowing anyone but my mother.

I politely declined. My mother said it was rude of me to refuse the last-minute invitation and that I insulted her friend. I said if the bride had wanted a plus-one for my mother, she would have indicated so on the invitation. Should I have given in and gone?

GENTLE READER: There are hosts who can give “command performances,” but most such hosts command armies. Even they cannot expect 100 percent acceptance of their invitations, although the rate does go up when those armies are used to round up stragglers.

Extending an invitation to you was intended as a kindness on the part of your mother’s friend, but there is no requirement that you accept. You might, however, be more vague about your reason for declining and merely cite a prior, nonspecific commitment.

(Please send your questions to Miss Manners at her website, www.missmanners.com; to her email, dearmissmanners@gmail.com; or through postal mail to Miss Manners, Andrews McMeel Syndication, 1130 Walnut St., Kansas City, MO 64106.)

DEAR MISS MANNERS: If you have a robot vacuum cleaner that runs through your house regularly, and it begins its scheduled run while you have casual company over, is it impolite to let it continue, or should the job be canceled? Does it matter if it is currently running in another room, where you can hear it but it is not underfoot?

GENTLE READER: Intelligent appliances are unavoidable, as are, perhaps, the crude attempts to anthropomorphize them by making them surly. It is only a matter of time before your vacuum cleaner orders you out of the way with a sarcastic quip.

Before that happens, Miss Manners wishes to remind everyone that your electronic devices are not your children. Etiquette highlights the distinction by reversing the now-ignored dictum about children: Appliances may be heard, but should not be seen. The robot vacuum cleaner can therefore be left to its own devices if it can be trusted not to make an appearance in the living room. Miss Manners says this in anticipation of the inevitable invention of the washing machine that wanders the house, absent-mindedly looking for discarded socks.

The rule must, however, be adapted to preserve homeowner and guest comfort: for example, turning off the dishwasher that drowns out dinner conversation, but leaving on the space heater that, the boiler having failed, is staving off frostbite.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: Do you have an opinion on acceptable etiquette for those attending musical performances in a casual outdoor setting? I experience frequent frustration, because when I attend a concert, I go to listen and watch the performers. It seems rude to engage in conversation while they are performing. However, the majority of the attendees don’t really seem to care at all about the music, and talk through the entire evening.

I live in a small town, and it is difficult NOT to encounter someone I know at these events, who then talks to me throughout the entire evening, in spite of my subtle signals that I am really trying to get into the music.

I don’t want to be rude or hurt someone’s feelings. I almost feel that the only solution is to arrive later in the performance, when the crowd is larger, so that I can hide in back. But it seems unfair that I have to miss part of the performance because of these people who don’t CARE about the performance. Any suggestions on comments that I could make that could gently give them the hint? Or is it hopeless?

GENTLE READER: Singlehandedly correcting the manners of an entire audience is hopeless, but avoiding conversation yourself is not.

Most people will become discouraged after a few distracted, monosyllabic responses. If not, Miss Manners recommends acknowledging -- sympathetically -- your friends’ desire to have a conversation, then stating that as you particularly wanted to hear this piece, you are going to find a spot closer to the stage. The advantage of a small town is that after you have done this, word will get around that you are finicky about people talking during the concert.

(Please send your questions to Miss Manners at her website, www.missmanners.com; to her email, dearmissmanners@gmail.com; or through postal mail to Miss Manners, Andrews McMeel Syndication, 1130 Walnut St., Kansas City, MO 64106.)

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I very strongly feel you are remiss to insist that manners or custom dictate that a card or handwritten note be the “acceptable” and “appropriate” way to express condolences. What happens if, in the near future, paper ceases to exist? In a world without paper, would everyone be violating “manners” because no one can offer a card or written correspondence to express sympathy?

Paper has not existed since the beginning of human interaction. Certainly human emotions and interactions have existed much longer, and are the primary drivers for dialogue; thus the sentiment, not the mechanism, is the important piece. Manners are not predicated on the mechanism by which the message is delivered. No one is shouting across a busy train station to say “SORRY!”

While, in a perfect world, individuals would take the mannerisms of the recipient into account and adjust accordingly, you shortchange and diminish the thoughts, feelings and well-intentioned attempt to reach out with a sympathetic response by putting forth that an email is “not enough.” If my emails expressing shared happiness, condolences or any other emotion are “not enough,” perhaps it is on the recipient to be more receptive of those who intend goodwill.

GENTLE READER: While it is true that paper has only existed since about the year 100 (and papyrus since 3000 B.C.), it still has its uses. You have a printer, don’t you? And the death of the book was heralded some time ago, but it turns out that a surprising number of people prefer to read books on paper instead of on screens.

Surely you do not expect Miss Manners to deny that it is the message itself that is important. But that argument is like saying it doesn’t matter if you wear your gym clothes to a wedding, as long as you genuinely wish the couple well.

Thoughtful condolence letters mean a great deal to the bereaved. As appreciations of the deceased and expressions of compassion, they are often treasured and kept, rather than read and deleted.

You could point out that in that case, the recipients could print them out, keeping the words, if not the immediacy of handwriting. But, then, that would involve using paper, wouldn’t it?

DEAR MISS MANNERS: When I am shopping for clothes, sales assistants say, “Tell me your first name” as they assist me to the dressing room. This has become ubiquitous.

I hate it! I understand why they do it, and am not a little embarrassed at my internal response. But I am 60 years old, and I do not want to give out my name in order to try on clothes.

The request seems forward and overly personal, and interrupts the otherwise anonymous vibe of my shopping experience. I swallow my negative feelings and give my name with a smile.

Is there a polite response that protects my anonymity, or should I contact management to suggest that not everyone enjoys the “personal touch”? And if I am being overly sensitive, I would accept a gentle rap on the knuckles and will take it like a lady!

GENTLE READER: Going around rapping knuckles is not the way to teach good manners, and Miss Manners neither practices it nor recommends it to you. All your recommendation to the manager would get you would be the untested assertion that most customers like it.

But there is a phrase that will handle the problem. It is: “Call me madam.”

(Please send your questions to Miss Manners at her website, www.missmanners.com; to her email, dearmissmanners@gmail.com; or through postal mail to Miss Manners, Andrews McMeel Syndication, 1130 Walnut St., Kansas City, MO 64106.)