DEAR MISS MANNERS: I am a lawyer in D.C., and I just completed a relatively prestigious yearlong fellowship/clerkship. I have had two job interviews thus far -- one for a government position and one for a nonprofit job -- and both times, I was surprised to find the interviewers wearing T-shirts, whereas I was wearing a suit.

Is it normal to wear T-shirts for interviews and meetings during the pandemic? It seems almost disrespectfully informal to me. Am I old-fashioned and behind the times?

GENTLE READER: Universal work-from-home is uncharted territory. Therefore, many sartorial “pioneers” believe that the old etiquette does not apply, and that they can conduct business meetings in their pajamas.

You will not be surprised to hear that Miss Manners disagrees. If you feel silly wearing a shirt and tie in your kitchen, remind yourself how silly the representative of a serious enterprise should feel conducting interviews in a T-shirt. And then keep doing what you are doing. Just because the person who has the power to award the job is wearing gym clothes does not mean that he will not feel disrespected if you do the same.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: A former supervisor introduced me to her friend, Entrepreneurial Emily, who was developing a product with my company in mind. Emily and I had a nice lunch, where I made it clear there was not an appetite or budget for her product for the foreseeable future. I also pointed her in the direction of resources to continue her product development.

Emily has continued to reach out to me every few months, and every time, I politely tell her there is simply no demand for her product in my company. She uses my personal email, as that was how we were introduced, so she permanently has my contact information.

I want to put a stop to any of Emily’s future solicitations, and do not want to hand her off to anyone else, as I feel my former supervisor did to me. How can I politely end this less-than-friends friendship?

GENTLE READER: You do not have to end any friendships, because the only friendship Miss Manners sees is between Emily and your former supervisor. Your relationship with Emily was a professional obligation. (And even your supervisor, who presumably likes Emily, would likely acknowledge that that obligation was discharged by the lunch.)

Your current relationship with Emily is roughly that between a mosquito and the person on whose arm it has landed, looking for another meal. The analogy is not perfect, as you do not have permission to squash Emily, who may otherwise be a perfectly lovely person. But it is time to cut her loose, which in this case means ceasing to answer any further communications.

(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 am known as an exceptional cook and baker. I take great pleasure in entertaining, and pride myself on offering delicious, beautiful fare. Invitations are enthusiastically accepted, and even sought, which is certainly flattering.

I would consider myself otherwise to be a fairly average person: neither homely nor beautiful, rather quiet and reserved, no sparkling personality, but polite and pleasant. The food, and the more outgoing company that it attracts, would certainly be the draw at my dinner parties -- and not me. That is fine. I am more a people-watcher than a “people person.” I do not want to be the center of attention.

My problem is that men at the dinner table declare their love for me and even propose marriage (though they, and I, are already married) with surprising frequency.

I completely understand that they do not mean what they are saying, that it is just an awkward compliment about the food and nothing more. Nor do I have any romantic interest whatsoever in these gentlemen. But I hate to see the hurt expression on their lovely wives’ faces when their husbands make these outrageous comments, and I am rather annoyed when my husband begins to act possessive in the face of this false competition for my affections.

Is there a charming way to end this nonsense and protect the feelings of the ladies present without upsetting the party?

GENTLE READER: “Well, can any of you ...” and then you name some household skill your husband has. Or just reel off a list of what were traditionally considered manly tasks: rewiring the lights, fixing the roof, building bookcases, fixing the plumbing and such.

You are bound to hit at least one that each of the wives wishes her husband would do, or has always done herself. Those wistful looks will turn into gently accusatory smiles at their husbands, and you are unlikely to receive such ridiculous compliments from them again.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: A friend of ours did us a small kindness. When we thanked her, she replied, “God told me to.”

In the moment, I interpreted it as pretty close to “I wouldn’t have done it, but my boss made me,” and I was frozen into an awkward silence. In retrospect, I know she didn’t mean it unkindly. But I can’t think of what I should have properly said in response.

GENTLE READER: “Please thank Him for me.” Or Her, if you prefer.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: Reading the 1903 wedding announcement of an antecedent, I wondered about this statement: “Cards have not been sent.” What did this mean in a 1903 newspaper social announcement?

GENTLE READER: The items in question would have been engraved cards of admission, to be presented for entrance to the wedding venue -- used only at weddings where there would be reason to think that the uninvited would be pressing to get in.

As apparently cards might have been expected, and your relative had to deny using them, that must have been some wedding.

(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: It would seem that we have lost the art of social shunning.

I simply ignore and have nothing to do with bad people in public, or in my private life. As mentioned, you quickly move away in obvious horror from such people when you see or encounter them. They will eventually get it. If not, no loss to me.

GENTLE READER: Lost the art of social shunning?

On the contrary; it has spun out of control. There are two new versions: Shaming and Cancel Culture. Miss Manners congratulates you for refraining from using these weapons casually.

Yet excluding people whom one -- or society -- considers reprehensible is etiquette’s chief form of defense (other than setting an example of courtesy in the face of rudeness, which doesn’t always have noticeable results). While the law can administer harsh penalties when it is flouted, disapproval is the only sanction etiquette has against rudeness, and this has often been dismissed as ridiculously weak.

But for centuries, children born outside of marriage received lifetime stigmas. When bans and quotas against races or religions were legally challenged, codified bigotry persisted in private institutions, including not just clubs, but neighborhoods and schools.

And the ease of going public online has encouraged rash -- and sometimes unfounded -- judgments against individuals and businesses, without gradations of punishment suited to the severity of the transgression.

Vigilante rule is cruel and unjust. So: Is Miss Manners willing to surrender etiquette’s one weapon?

No.

Much atrocious behavior has been exposed. Unmistakable photographic evidence has documented actions that had otherwise been easily denied.

The old warning was, ”Don’t do anything you would be ashamed to see on the front page of the paper.” Now, even shameless people should realize that there are consequences to being seen online with behavior that they used to get away with doing.

Miss Manners lives in hope that people will learn to care enough about their reputations to curb their offensive words and deeds. But that requires a belief in reputations, and an adjustment on the part of well-meaning society to the popular concept of being nonjudgmental.

That must be the phenomenon to which you are referring: The charitable habit of nullifying misdeeds by conferring instant forgiveness, even for the unforgivable. At its most touching, it is the bereaved forgiving the murderer. At its least charming, it is those who lionize audacious criminals.

Deeds count. Miss Manners is bewildered by the current explanation of wrongdoers: “That is not who I am.”

Well, then, who is it who did what you did? Whom do we hold accountable? And what if your doppelganger takes over again?

Miss Manners is not without mercy in viewing those accounts. She requires accusers to be sure of their facts and to keep their condemnation in proportion to the transgressions. She believes in redemption through remorse and reparations.

And she agrees with you about avoiding pointless street confrontations.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: Is it polite to tell someone that their book has a typographical error?

GENTLE READER: Only when the book is being prepared for a second edition. Or if the first edition was so small that the author can easily do hand corrections in each copy.

(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.)