Etiquette and Reverse Etiquette

Etiquette

In the 1950s and 1960s, when we were conducting several small mining operations in successfully going broke, we often entertained representatives of mine machinery firms at our home. Creede's accommodations during that period were pretty spartan with few eating establishments during winter months.

A young fellow from a Denver company that received the bulk of our business came in on a tour and made quite an impression on me, neatly dressed, well-educated, and on his way up with a wife and two small children in a suburb of Denver. I asked Inez if we could have him for dinner. She was agreeable, loved to cook, and enjoyed the company, even if most of the conversation concerned mining.

The dinner was special. Roast beef, mashed potatoes with brown gravy, garlic grits, and a salad. I was never more proud of my bride, especially when she uncovered a sliced loaf of homemade bread with a smell that set my mouth watering. Bob, our guest, ate like he had just been rescued from weeks of starvation. I couldn't believe a man of his size could find room for anything more but Inez had baked a cherry pie and he topped the rest off with a large slab.

The evening couldn't have gone better. Inez was so pleased with the way Bob had eaten, she began gathering up plates and suggested we go into the easy chairs and visit. She was reaching for Bob's plate when he belched, deeply and loudly, in her face. She was shocked but she reacted gracefully and picked up his plate, but before she could step back he belched again, even louder than before. She retreated to the kitchen and we retired to the easy chairs.

I felt like I was sitting on a time bomb, expecting an eruption of screams from the kitchen at any moment followed by a command for both Bob and me to leave her house. I could see by the expression on her face at the second belch that she was deeply offended and uncertain what her reaction would be. She was calm and polite on his leaving but when he was out of earshot, the tears started and she advised me "Don't you ever invite him to our house again. I have never met anyone so rude."

The subject came up at a gathering not long after her humiliation and a Jewish lady laughed. "Oh honey," she began, "he was complimenting you and you should have thanked him. In his faith, one belch means the meal was very good, two belches was a very high rating, an extraordinary meal, and he was probably hurt that you didn't acknowledge it as a compliment." I don't believe Inez was convinced.

Reverse Etiquette

Through a series of coincidences and lack of good judgement on my part, I became involved with a mine promoter of the highest order early in my mining career. Promoters are a necessary evil in the business of extracting minerals from solid rock unless one is lucky enough to stumble over an outcrop of high grade ore that can be mined or sold for a profit.

The promoter I became acquainted with in 1949 was a very intelligent individual, served in the military and mingled with the right crowd, the right crowd being those with large bank accounts and gullible or, as Mr. James so aptly put it, those with "beau coup shekels and easily plucked."

Our bank account ranged from solvent to insufficient funds status, however I proved to be one of the gullible and lost in every encounter until Inez took control of our finances.

I liked the gentleman, he was comical, always optimistic and could have me on cloud nine when I was struggling to pay the light bill and he was lighting cigars with twenty dollar bills. Inez was considerably less impressed but never failed to be a proper hostess.

On his last visit to our home Inez prepared a Mexican food dinner which was his choice. She warned him that I liked my Mexican dishes hotter than the usual fare and she used both hot Picante sauce and jalapeno peppers. "I eat mine the same way," he answered, "it doesn't get too hot for me." The meal was delicious but I noticed that Mr. James was sweating profusely and drinking much ice water with almost a lack of conversation, very unusual for him.

After dinner he and I retired to the living room where he still sipped on a glass of ice water but had recovered his voice. "We are going to build a mill," he informed me. "The money is in milling and we have been fools not to have realized that." He continued. "I have people begging me to invest in our company and we are talking millions now, not the penny-ante stuff that has been miring us down."

I was ready and willing to be a millionaire at their expense and was enjoying my newly-imagined status to the hilt as Inez washed dishes, cleaned up the kitchen, then went to her sewing room to work on a quilt. It was getting late when Inez tiptoed behind my chair so as not to disturb our talk. I could hear her on the back porch rattling tools and she returned with a scoop shovel. "I'm tired and want to tell you both goodnight. When you finish piling up your millions, will you shovel them out the front door?" I was embarrassed. Mr. James left.