DEAR MISS MANNERS: I have become deeply concerned about a new etiquette issue: when to turn on one’s video camera during a conference call.

I spend a great deal of time on conference calls for work, but there seems to be little agreement about when one’s co-workers may view one at home in one’s natural state. Some choose to be visible right away; others will follow, perhaps reluctantly, and some stubbornly remain invisible.

No one actually talks about it; it seems to be a silent, sub rosa struggle. I think that seeing someone’s face makes communication richer and more satisfying, but I can readily imagine that colleagues may not wish to be seen in their messy homes or ill-advised fashion choices.

Many etiquette questions are time-honored and well-understood, with solutions that have been worked out long ago. But not this. Is it unkind to turn on your video when others choose not to? Does this create an unwelcome expectation for others?

GENTLE READER: While technology can solve this problem -- those who are reluctant to be seen at home may use a virtual background -- Miss Manners prefers to address the underlying meaning.

If your meeting were live, would you turn your back on the speaker? Would you be in your pajamas? Would you conduct unrelated business without leaving the room?

Trusting that the answer to all three is “no,” we can then apply these to your videoconference. With important exceptions, etiquette expects participants to be present, attentive -- and visible.

As you have observed, etiquette ceases to function when people make up their own rules. And if everyone agrees on not being visible, there is always the telephone.

However, just as in live meetings, there may be pressing reasons to absent oneself for a time, which can be accomplished by saying, “Excuse me, I have to step out,” and suspending the camera.

As Miss Manners has been working from home for a long time, she is well aware of the challenges. But someone who believes it is possible simultaneously to attend to a child who has strayed from remote learning and to a business meeting, if only others were not watching, is not fooling anyone.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I was involved in a conversation with a stranger at the grocery store. She gave me a compliment, I thanked her and we began to chat while picking out ears of corn.

The issue is that this nice lady made a derogatory racial comment. I am still stumped. I know how to handle this situation with a friend or family member, but I am stumped on how to correct a complete stranger without causing a scene.

GENTLE READER: Your new friend is apparently not as nice as you had hoped. Miss Manners is pleased to hear that you already know how to deal with such comments from friends and family, as she considers that to be more difficult. Dissolving a friendship of four seconds is easy: Give a forced smile and drift away to dry goods.

(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 have an old friend from high school, and we carry on a very cordial correspondence via email and social media. Most of our exchanges are lighthearted and brief. We are both very busy, and I, especially, do not want to get bogged down with the need to read and respond to very long emails.

The problem for me is that my friend loves to travel -- and even more than the travel itself, he loves to write excruciatingly long, detailed trip reports. He emails these out with the expectation that everyone read them AND comment on them. And even though he can’t travel anymore due to COVID-19, he still writes up reports from decades-old trips! Every time he sends one, I want to pull my hair out, and I am already mostly bald!

I don’t want to hurt his feelings, but I can’t think of a tactful way to tell him I would rather read a book in the small amount of spare time I have rather than read and respond to another of his voluminous travel emails.

GENTLE READER: It is not often that Miss Manners has the chance to relieve people of the obligation of responding. You do have to respond to invitations with a definitive acceptance or expression of regret. You do have to respond to presents with letters of thanks. You do have to respond to your friend’s personal messages if you want to maintain the friendship.

But guess what? You do not have to respond to social media postings or mass emails, as these are not tailored to the recipient. They are more like press releases, widely distributed in the hope of catching some interest.

But if that seems callous to you, simply reply with “Nice trip!” This can be done without having to read the accounts. Or tearing out your remaining hair.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I know that dinner rolls and butter are not traditionally part of a formal dinner service, but if I do want to serve butter at the dinner table, how should I do so?

I have a collection of antique butter pats in various patterns that I would love to use, but I am wondering exactly how these were traditionally used. When I have tried to search online for “how to use butter pats,” most of the results refer either to slices of butter from a stick, or to implements for making and shaping butter -- not how to use these tiny plates.

GENTLE READER: Did you bookmark the link about shaping butter? Not if it’s about sculpting a chicken out of butter as a centerpiece, that is. But it may be useful if it has to do with making tiny shapes -- roses or pleated balls, for instance -- to put on those little plates, confusingly themselves called butter pats, which are for serving individual portions of butter.

You can just whack squares from a butter stick, of course. But such plates were generally forgotten, or pressed into humiliating service as inadequate ashtrays, and Miss Manners presumes you would like to make them proud again.

(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: Please advise on how to converse in three (or more!) COVID “pods.” One couple is seated in each pod -- socially distanced, masked and alfresco -- but with no chance to circulate, except by changing seats with the other in the same pod.

As a host, I find that three separate conversations can take place simultaneously within three pods, and as guests must speak loudly to make up for the distance, the resulting sound levels, confusion, cross-talk and distractions are stressful and not enjoyable. I prefer that one person per pod speak at a time, with all others remaining silent, and the “baton” move from pod to pod as conversation flows.

When hosting, I encourage guests to speak and I remain silent while they are speaking. When a guest, I yield to the hosts and to other guests.

Needless to say, my wife disagrees and feels that guests should not be “controlled,” including by good example, if that penetrates their general obliviousness. She feels the noise level is a metric of sorts for the “success” of the event, and that I yield too readily to others.

Perhaps conversations at circular dining tables provide some lessons.

GENTLE READER: Hospitable people often have the mistaken idea that it would be an affront to offer guests any guidance.

Nonsense. Look at the way they hang bashfully around a private buffet table (there are no such inhibitions about a commercial one) until the host has to keep repeating, “Please go ahead” and handing the nearest guest a plate. Or if there is no seating plan, the way they stick to their own spouses, as if parties were a good time to discuss their problems with their computers or their children.

It is only when a social routine is well known to all participants that instruction does not seem necessary. (But Miss Manners has been kept busy with complaints about those who break the rules -- such as hosts who are vague about time and degree of formality, and guests who don’t give, or keep, definitive commitments.)

However, the socially distanced dinner party is a new form, in need of some order. It does bear resemblance to the round dinner table, where there is generally one conversation, but without the occasional opportunity for soft, side-by-side talk. And while a party of eight would be fine if seated together, more than six now would require a lot of acreage and handheld microphones.

It is not impolite to suggest that keeping to one conversation will make this work, and to ask if anyone would care to begin, or, for that matter, if one of the guests would like to lead it. If not, the hosts should be prepared with some opening lines. And along the way, they will have to keep reasonable order, with such prodding as, “I think Jenna wants to say something about that,” “But what do you think, Adam?” and “Just a second, Andy; I don’t think Chris is finished.”

Gentle guidance will save you from an unpleasantly chaotic evening punctuated by shouts of “What?”

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I am an old single guy with no children, and as such, I feel I should be exempt from being expected to watch others’ “birthin’” videos. I know I can say “No, thank you,” but is it inappropriate of me to offer to watch a video of the conception instead?

GENTLE READER: Just please promise not to say that Miss Manners encouraged you by laughing.

(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.)