By Ralf the Grillmeister, Germany

There was one thing during the COVID time that I really liked: at the supermarket cashier, people kept their distance.

One and a half metres. Beautiful.

Today, this has disappeared completely. People come closer and closer again, and sometimes I think they want to go home with me.

On Sunday my wife said, “I need bananas.” Some supermarkets near us are open on Sundays, so we drove there. There was an extremely long queue at the cashier. Then came the magic announcement: cashier number two was opening.

I sometimes think there is only one thing faster than Usain Bolt: pensioners when cashier number two opens.

Suddenly everybody was moving. Shopping trolleys were changing direction, people were calculating positions, and normal social behaviour was temporarily cancelled because somewhere, perhaps twelve metres away, there was the possibility of being served thirty seconds earlier.

I was standing there when an older woman and her daughter came behind me with their trolley.

Bum.

The trolley touched my backside.

Bum again.

At some point I turned around and said, “Excuse me, can you please keep more distance? Your trolley does not need to be on my body. I don’t like it.”

There is a limit.

A week before, it was even worse. A man stood behind me without a trolley. He had all his shopping in his arms and came so close that I could hear him breathing on my neck.

No. Sorry.

Again I asked him to keep more distance.

Maybe one and a half metres is not necessary every time, but breathing into my neck is definitely too close.

I have developed a technical solution. If I have a shopping trolley and somebody behind me keeps coming closer, I move around to the other side of my trolley. Then the trolley becomes my security system.

It is not perfect, but it is better than nothing.

Cashier Number Two.

The supermarket cashier is a very interesting place for studying human beings.

Distance is only the beginning.

Then somebody reaches the cashier and hears, “That will be €12.20.”

You think this is the end of the transaction.

No.

Now comes the purse.

One coin. Two coins. Three coins. Four coins. Five coins. More coins. Another compartment. More searching. More coins.

Then, after the complete archaeological excavation of the handbag: “Oh, I don’t have enough.”

Everything goes back into the purse and out comes a banknote.

At such moments I become slightly nervous.

The funny thing is that I collect coins myself. I have a big red pig at home, and everything that is left in my pockets goes into it. I leave it there for a long time, sometimes until another holiday has come and gone, because otherwise it is not worth the effort.

Then I take the pig to the bank and pour everything into the counting machine.

Suddenly the machine tells me, “Mr Brand, €758.”

Yes!

That is a good moment.

So I have nothing against coins. Coins are fantastic. I only prefer them when they are inside my red pig and not being counted one by one in front of me when I am waiting with frozen food in my shopping trolley.

I only prefer them when they are inside my red pig and not being counted one by one in front of me when I am waiting with frozen food in my shopping trolley.

Closing the Other Distance.

In my working life, strangely, I often do exactly the opposite.

At the supermarket I want more distance. When I meet somebody for business, I usually try to reduce the distance.

Not physically. Please, no breathing on the neck.

Human distance.

When I enter somebody’s office for the first time, I look around. Right side, left side, wall, desk. What is there?

A photograph of a sailing boat? Good.

A picture of a balloon? Even better.

Something from Norway? A particular computer? A strange object on the desk?

That is my starting point.

I can say, “Oh, you sail?”

Or, “Have you been to Norway?”

Or perhaps I see a balloon picture and can tell them that I once gave my wife a balloon flight for her birthday.

Immediately we are not only two people sitting down for a sales meeting. We have something else to talk about.

This is important to me.

You can start with the product, the price and the presentation. Of course you can. But I prefer first to find the person.

Even an almost empty office tells you something. If there are four blank walls and an empty desk, I might say it looks like Stuttgart-Stammheim prison. Then at least we have a conversation.

There is nearly always something.

I also still like paper. I like writing with a pen. If I see somebody with an Apple computer, that can also start a discussion because I use Apple myself.

A life without Apple is possible.

But not desirable.

The Coffee Rule.

Coffee is another very good bridge.

When somebody asks me at a meeting, “Would you like coffee?”, my answer is normally yes.

Sometimes the coffee is not very good. Then I drink it and say thank you.

But when the coffee is excellent, I say something.

“This coffee is really good. It smells fantastic. What machine do you have?”

And suddenly the other person starts talking.

“Yes, we have this special machine…”

And off we go.

Before we have discussed the real subject of the meeting, the atmosphere has changed.

We are talking like people.

For me, this is much more natural.

The important thing is that it must be genuine. If the coffee is fantastic, I say it is fantastic. If I see an interesting picture, I really want to know the story. It is not a trick where I have learned three sentences from a sales book.

I am curious.

And often the little thing beside the actual business becomes the thing that opens the business conversation.

Du, Sie and the Hamburg Solution.

Then there is Germany’s great social measuring system: du and Sie.

English makes life very easy. Everybody is “you.”

We Germans had to build an entire social engineering project around one pronoun.

With some customers I use du. With others I use Sie. In my present working world it is probably around fifty-fifty.

In another company I worked for, we often came from an Austrian background and simply asked customers, “We normally say du. Is that okay?”

Usually they said yes.

Finished.

Very easy.

But it is not always so easy, because the choice says something about distance. If you move to du too quickly, perhaps you are too familiar. If you stay with Sie forever, perhaps you create a wall that is no longer necessary.

Hamburg even has its own solution: the Hanseatic du.

You use the person’s first name but continue with Sie.

“Hallo Ralf, können Sie bitte…”

Fantastic.

Close and distant at the same time. Very Hamburg.

People often say North Germans are reserved and closed. I do not completely agree. I have heard the opposite many times. People meet us and say, “You are not closed at all.”

For me, being open does not mean becoming everybody’s best friend in five minutes. It means that when the connection is real, it can stay real.

You can meet somebody again after many years and continue almost where you stopped.

That is a different kind of distance.

The Radar.

The Mayor asked me whether I have some kind of radar for strangers.

Yes.

Can I explain it?

Not really.

Sometimes I see somebody and immediately think: I don’t like this person.

Other times I meet somebody and think: this is the right man.

There is something there. The way somebody looks, behaves, speaks or reacts. I cannot make a technical drawing of it. I cannot measure it with my invisible tape measure.

You can look at a person, but you cannot look inside their head.

Still, after many years of meeting customers and all kinds of different people, I think you learn to read between the lines.

Sometimes, of course, you can be wrong. That is human.

But sometimes the connection is immediate.

I remember meeting a manager for the first time in a restaurant. We introduced ourselves, started talking and very quickly the conversation was not really about work anymore. We talked about private things and ordinary life.

The chemistry was simply there.

Later, when I was somewhere near his home, I could send a message: “I am nearby. Shall we have a coffee?”

“Yes!”

That is nice.

And perhaps this is why I cannot give one answer to the question of the correct distance between strangers.

At the supermarket, please give me some space. If you have a shopping trolley, even better. We already have a very practical measuring instrument.

In a conversation, it is different.

Then I look for the picture on the wall, the object on the desk, the good coffee, the small joke, the word that tells me how this person wants to communicate.

Nobody really teaches you these rules. Often everybody simply expects you to know them.

Some people want Sie. Some are immediately comfortable with du. Some people need a little time. Some need a conversation before the real conversation. Some say almost nothing at all.

You have to look.

You have to listen.

And sometimes you simply need to know when to move your shopping trolley between yourself and the person breathing on your neck.

By Rosii in Sao Paulo, Monica in Adelaide, down under, the Mayor in Indian Summery Cleebourg and hosted by Fruitloop in sizzling South Africa. What could go wrong?

It started with a perfectly innocent question. When you visit someone for coffee or dinner, how do you know when it is time to leave?

You might think the answer is simple. Finish your coffee, thank your host, collect your belongings and go home. But at Lunch with Janita & Frank, simple questions have a habit of becoming complicated, particularly when Fruitloop starts asking them and the Mayor decides that modern civilisation has lost its manners.

Rosii, joining from Brazil, thought it depended entirely on the company. Dinner might be followed by dessert, coffee and conversation, and before anyone notices, it is one o’clock in the morning. With a best friend or her sister-in-law, that would not necessarily be a problem. Sometimes the conversation is simply too good to end.

The Mayor had a slightly different approach. He suspected he might outstay his welcome within the first five minutes.

He was joking, of course. Mostly.

In his view, knowing when to leave is something we learn without ever being formally taught. We watch our parents, observe other people and gradually absorb the invisible rules of social behaviour. Nobody hands us a rulebook explaining when the final cup of coffee becomes one cup too many.

Fruitloop agreed that the relationship matters. A visit to a friend might last an hour or two, while a visit to her sister or parents could continue much longer. Her sister would probably encourage her to stay.

The Mayor wondered whether that might still be true twenty years later.

“Thirty years,” Fruitloop corrected him.

Clearly, some families have very generous visiting hours.

Whatever Happened to Carriages at Eleven?

The Mayor then transported everyone back to what he remembered as polite society in England, when invitations could contain a wonderfully useful instruction: Carriages at 11 p.m.

There was no need for awkward hints, nervous glances at the clock or elaborate excuses about tomorrow’s early start. Your carriage was expected at eleven, which meant you were expected to be outside waiting for it.

The Mayor thought this was an excellent arrangement. Everyone knew when the evening would finish, and nobody had to wonder whether another glass of wine or another helping of dessert was pushing their luck.

The only difficulty was finding a modern replacement.

Should invitations now announce Cars at eleven? Perhaps Limousines, scooters and electric bicycles at eleven? And what about guests arriving on foot?

Whatever the transport, the Mayor was convinced that modern hospitality had lost something valuable when it abandoned the clear departure time.

Monica, joining from Australia, had inherited a similar philosophy from her late mother: “A good guest always knows when to leave.”

She also remembered another piece of advice. If you do not want somebody to stay too long, give them an uncomfortable chair.

That sounded wonderfully practical until Monica remembered a German family acquaintance who once arrived at their doorstep and stayed far longer than expected. Her family eventually needed the room for an aunt who was coming to Adelaide for medical treatment.

The visitor did finally leave, although Monica joked that without a reason to move him along, he might still be there.

Suddenly, the uncomfortable chair seemed rather inadequate.

When the Host Goes to Bed.

Fruitloop introduced another problem. Suppose you have invited friends for dinner, but halfway through the evening you begin dreaming about your sofa, your pyjamas and the wonderful possibility of being left alone.

Fruitloop had experienced something remarkably similar.

Years earlier, she had hosted a barbecue with her then-boyfriend and some friends. By approximately one in the morning, she had reached her limit. Rather than interrupt the gathering, she simply announced that everyone could carry on without her.

She took a shower, put on her pyjamas and went to bed.

The guests apparently had enough alcohol to occupy their attention and barely noticed her departure.

The Mayor was scandalised.

He wanted to know whether this might have contributed to the boyfriend eventually becoming an ex-boyfriend.

No, Fruitloop assured him. There were other reasons.

The Mayor then remembered an occasion when his own then-girlfriend had fallen asleep on the sofa while they were entertaining dinner guests. He had been mortified, and they had words about it afterwards. She, however, had not been particularly apologetic.

Two hosts, two disappearing acts, and rather different reactions.

Monica admitted that she had sometimes started dreaming about her pyjamas before the guests had even arrived. There are evenings when arrangements made enthusiastically two weeks earlier suddenly seem like a terrible idea. Fortunately, she added, once everyone arrived, the evening often turned out much better than expected.

Monica admitted that she had sometimes started dreaming about her pyjamas before the guests had even arrived.

Rosii understood the feeling too. These days, when her eyes begin closing around midnight, the attraction of bed becomes difficult to resist.

The Mayor thought the whole situation raised a more serious question. What does it actually mean to host somebody?

A dinner party, he argued, requires thought. Who are you inviting? What will you cook? Who will sit together? Will the conversation flow? Are you hosting because you genuinely want to spend time with these people, or simply because it is your turn to invite them?

He pictured the exhausting social obligation of entertaining the Joneses, with everyone smiling politely through dinner before going home to complain about the food and wine.

Perhaps, he suggested, people sometimes spend so much energy fulfilling social expectations that they forget to enjoy the occasion itself.

And just when the conversation was becoming dangerously sensible, Fruitloop remembered a cartoon.

In the programme her son had been watching, a little boy hosted a lively party while a strange creature next door held a much less successful gathering. The creature’s guests became so bored that some fell asleep and one began losing his arms.

When the boy borrowed party punch from his neighbour, he explained that he did not want his own party to become one of those gatherings where people’s arms fell off.

Eventually, the bored guests abandoned the creature’s party. One even left his detached arms behind.

The creature called after him to collect them.

“Keep them,” came the reply.

The Mayor immediately recognised the opportunity for a joke about leaving a party legless.

Apparently, the standard of hospitality had now fallen from uncomfortable chairs to actual loss of limbs.

The Guest Who Came for Coffee and Never Left.

Fruitloop was only warming up.

Imagine, she suggested, inviting somebody for coffee on Monday. By Thursday, that person is still sitting on your sofa, wearing your slippers and asking what is for dinner.

How do you get rid of them without being rude?

Rosii was genuinely troubled. She searched for a polite solution, perhaps mentioning an appointment or something important she needed to do. But the more she considered the situation, the more difficult it became.

After all, she pointed out, the guest was already behaving impolitely.

Monica had a much more imaginative answer.

She could announce that she was fasting and would not be preparing dinner. Alternatively, she could direct the visitor to the nearest McDonald’s.

But her favourite solution involved pest control.

She would tell the guest that the house had developed a bed bug infestation and exterminators were arriving the following day to fumigate everything. Naturally, everybody would have to leave while the chemicals were sprayed.

The Mayor questioned why anyone would remain in somebody else’s home for four consecutive days in the first place.

Monica was not interested in reopening the investigation. They already had a problem. What they needed was a solution.

The Mayor, however, had an entirely different interpretation of the situation.

He proposed that, for the purposes of his answer, he should be considered single. Since Mondays were usually filled with meetings, the only person likely to receive an invitation for coffee would be an extraordinarily attractive woman he had admired for years.

If she was still sitting on his sofa on Thursday, wearing slippers and requesting dinner, he would not regard that as a hospitality emergency.

He would regard it as romantic success.

The table now had two competing proposals: Monica’s pest-control operation and the Mayor’s imaginary love story.

Fruitloop refused to choose a winner.

“We don’t choose. We add both.”

Then she revealed her own solution.

At home, Fruitloop, her husband and son have a family joke. Whenever someone asks what is for dinner and nobody has planned anything, the answer is “each other.”

So, if an unwanted guest was still demanding dinner on Thursday, Fruitloop would simply announce that everyone was going to eat each other.

And they would start with the guest.

The Mayor became understandably concerned about his future invitation to South Africa.

First, he had been informed about the appropriate greeting. Now there was a possibility that he might become dinner.

Fruitloop reassured him that he would still be welcome. Besides, if he stayed long enough to wear her slippers, he would probably discover that they were much too small and he is now part of the family.

The Mayor was confident that slippers could stretch.

The International Guest and Goodbye Association.

By this stage, ordinary social etiquette was clearly beyond repair. Fruitloop decided that what the world needed was legislation.

Everyone was invited to imagine becoming president of the International Guest and Goodbye Association, with the power to introduce one completely ridiculous law governing visits and an equally ridiculous punishment for breaking it.

The Mayor borrowed inspiration from the BBC radio programme Just a Minute, in which participants must speak on a subject without hesitation, repetition or deviation.

He proposed a similar rule for guests, with a punishment inspired by a comic tale about losing bread in Swiss cheese fondue.

Offenders would be thrown into a lake.

Fruitloop suggested a river might be more effective, since the current would carry the offender away.

The Mayor approved of the practical advantages.

Monica had already imagined something considerably more technological: an ejector seat.

Guests who ignored repeated hints that it was time to leave would be launched through the roof and into the atmosphere.

Unfortunately, this created several architectural difficulties. The Mayor pointed out that a two-storey house would complicate matters considerably, while installing such equipment in Rosii’s apartment building could prove rather inconvenient for the neighbours upstairs.

Planning permission might also be a problem.

Fruitloop suggested that perhaps dinner parties should simply be held outside, where there would be fewer ceilings to worry about.

Somewhere between the imaginary ejector seat and the discussion of outdoor alternatives, the International Guest and Goodbye Association was beginning to look like an organisation that should never receive official recognition.

The Last Grain of Rice.

When it was Fruitloop’s turn to invent a law, she surprised everyone by becoming almost reasonable.

Her rule concerned dinner plates.

If you are a guest at her table, she would like you to finish your food, or at least gather the leftovers together rather than leaving little bits scattered across the plate.

She was particularly irritated by a few grains of rice or pieces of potato that, when collected together, would make another perfectly good mouthful.

Why leave them?

The Mayor immediately demanded clarification about bones. Surely guests were not expected to eat those too?

Of course not, Fruitloop explained. She would provide somewhere to put them.

Her objection was to perfectly edible food being abandoned in little corners of the plate.

This led the Mayor into a discussion of table manners, particularly the correct way to hold a fork when eating peas.

Should food be placed on the curved back of the fork, as in traditional English table manners, or scooped up from the other side?

Fruitloop was wonderfully unconcerned.

It depended on what she was eating. Sometimes she used one side, sometimes the other. Her sister was right-handed but held her fork in her left hand.

As far as Fruitloop was concerned, the important thing was to eat your dinner and clear your plate.

The Mayor was not entirely satisfied. He seemed to think that an invitation to Fruitloop’s house ought to come with detailed instructions about everything from footwear to cutlery.

By now, the hypothetical visit had become an elaborate operation. He might arrive overdressed, borrow clothes from Fruitloop’s husband, squeeze into her slippers, risk becoming the main course and then face judgement over the direction of his fork.

He was beginning to wonder whether he would ever make it through customs.

One Last Question Is Also a Hint.

Earlier in the conversation, Fruitloop had asked everyone to invent a secret emergency signal that would tell guests it was time to leave.

Monica remembered hearing that Queen Elizabeth II used the position of her handbag to signal that she wished to move on from a conversation.

Rosii suggested simply collecting her purse and announcing that she needed to go home.

The Mayor refused to reveal his secret signal because, naturally, that would mean it was no longer secret.

He eventually proposed a far more theatrical departure. A guest could tap a spoon against a crystal wine glass, stand up and deliver a magnificent farewell speech, praising the food while admitting that the company had been rather boring.

Naturally, he would also expect his borrowed clothes to be exchanged for his own suit before departure, preferably freshly pressed.

Fruitloop was willing to hang the suit neatly.

Dry cleaning, however, was apparently not included in her hospitality package.

Eventually, Fruitloop announced that she had one last question.

The Mayor immediately recognised this as a possible signal that the gathering was nearing its end.

Yes, she confirmed. One last question meant it was almost time to go.

When he asked how long everyone’s answers could be, she warned that she might interrupt if they became too long.

He declared this very impolite.

But the meeting continued, with more rules, more imaginary punishments and a discussion of table manners that could probably have lasted until the next meal.

Finally, Fruitloop announced that she really did need to leave.

The Mayor took the hint.

And, after an entire conversation devoted to the art of saying goodbye, everyone began saying goodbye. There were thanks, good wishes, promises to meet again and the familiar difficulty of ending a pleasant gathering when nobody wanted to be the first to disappear.

Perhaps Rosii had understood the situation from the beginning. Sometimes the conversation is so enjoyable that you simply keep talking until one o’clock in the morning.

Other times, your host is already wearing pyjamas, somebody has threatened to release bed bugs, and the International Guest and Goodbye Association is preparing to launch you through the ceiling.

At Lunch, fortunately, nobody needed an ejector seat.

Fruitloop had already discovered a much simpler solution.

“Your time’s up.”

And even the Mayor eventually accepted that.

Although he might still prefer a carriage waiting outside.

By Sylvie, France

Every home has its own habits. Some are so normal to us that we hardly notice them, until somebody visits and does things differently. Then suddenly we realise that what is polite in one house might be quite strange in another.

For me, one of these rules begins at the front door. When friends or family visit my home, they know they should take off their shoes. It is something I expect, and most of them do the same in their own homes. When I visit them, I automatically remove my shoes too.

But I do not expect this from everybody. If someone comes to install something or do a job in the house, I would not ask them to remove their shoes. It depends on the situation and the person.

Interestingly, this was not a rule I grew up with. My family lived on a farm, where wearing shoes inside or outside was not such an important question. It is a habit I developed later.

When Janita told me that many people in South Africa keep their shoes on when visiting somebody, I immediately thought of one small problem.

You must make sure there are no holes in your socks!

A Toilet with Its Own Rules.

There is another unusual arrangement at our house, and this one has caused some discussion in the family.

My husband built a separate toilet outside, near our swimming pool. It is practical because people using the pool do not have to walk through the house while they are wet.

But the question of how people use the toilet is another matter.

After some family celebrations, particularly when we have many visitors at Christmas, I have sometimes been disappointed by the condition of the bathroom the following morning. I do not like finding a mess around the toilet or on the floor.

For me, this is a question of consideration. If somebody uses the bathroom, they should leave it clean for the next person.

We have spoken about this with friends, and some of them have similar rules in their homes. It seems that even something as ordinary as using the toilet can become a subject of different opinions.

And sometimes, the people who disagree most strongly are all members of the same family!

Four Kisses? Two Are Enough!

Greetings are another area where politeness can become complicated.

In France, where I live, it is common to greet friends and family with kisses on the cheeks. But the number is not always the same. Some people give two kisses, others three, and some insist on four.

In France, where I live, it is common to greet friends and family with kisses on the cheeks.

My brother-in-law, who is married to my sister, is one of the four-kiss people. We have a very good relationship, and I know exactly what to expect when we meet.

But for me, two kisses are enough.

Four takes quite a long time!

There is also the problem of coordination. When you greet someone, you have to know which way to turn your head. If two people move differently, an ordinary greeting can suddenly become an unexpected kiss on the mouth.

This has happened to me before. Sometimes it was simply awkward, although on other occasions I suspected the man had intended it.

Janita told me that in her South African family, some close relatives greet each other with a kiss on the mouth. That surprised me. I could not imagine greeting my adult daughter that way.

It was interesting to discover how differently two families can understand an affectionate greeting.

When I was a child, my parents expected me to say hello to people, but they never forced me to kiss anyone. I think there is an important difference between greeting someone politely and being expected to show affection in a particular way.

When an Invitation Comes with a Sales Pitch.

Sometimes the rules are not about what happens in somebody’s home, but why you have been invited there.

In Germany, we have gatherings where somebody invites friends to see products being demonstrated and sold. It might be jewellery, underwear or an expensive kitchen machine.

The difficult part is that you may not really want to buy anything.

Sometimes you go because a friend has invited you and you want to support her. She may need a certain number of guests for the event to take place. So you attend, even though you have no intention of spending money.

Of course, if the seller gives a convincing demonstration, you might change your mind.

I have been to a jewellery gathering where I bought something because I liked the quality and thought the price was fair. That was a good experience.

And there is another advantage to these parties. At the end, you usually have coffee and cake, or perhaps an aperitif, and you meet other people.

That part is always pleasant.

I also know the demonstrations for a popular German cooking machine. The guests prepare food together and then enjoy eating it. But the machine is extremely expensive. I own an older model, and although I know the product, I would not buy a new one at today’s prices.

The food might be delicious, but at the end somebody still wants to sell you the machine!

The Guests Who Help and the Guests Who Sit.

When I invite friends for dinner, they usually ask what they can bring. It might be something for the aperitif, a cake or a dessert. Everybody contributes something, and I appreciate that.

During the evening, my friends also help. When it is time to clear the table or wash the dishes, the women often get up and join me.

The men? Well, they usually remain sitting with their wine!

It is something I have noticed many times.

When I am invited to somebody else’s home, I also offer to help. I would not feel comfortable simply sitting while the host does everything.

But not everybody thinks this way.

I know several people who do not offer to help at all. When I visit somebody who behaves like that in my home, I sometimes allow myself to sit a little more too.

I do not make a big argument about it. We all have different habits, and some people simply expect the host to take care of everything.

Still, it is interesting how much we notice these small things, even when nobody says anything.

A Surprise in Egypt.

Different habits become even more noticeable when travelling.

I have visited Egypt twice, and on both occasions something surprised me about the hotels where I stayed.

I saw only men working there.

The people cleaning the rooms were men. The people working in the kitchen were men. At reception, I also saw men. During those visits, I did not notice any women working in the hotels.

This was very different from my experience in Fuerteventura, where I had often seen women cleaning hotel rooms.

I began wondering why there was such a difference. Were the women working somewhere else? Was it connected to family traditions or expectations?

I did not know the answer, and I was not sure whether the situation was good for women.

It was simply something I noticed during my travels, and it stayed in my mind because it was so different from what I was used to seeing.

Travelling can make us curious about things that we might never question at home.

Who Decides What Is Polite?

The more we spoke about these little rules, the clearer it became that politeness is not always something everybody agrees on.

In one home, taking off your shoes is expected. In another, nobody thinks about it. Some people greet you with four kisses, while others prefer a handshake or a simple hello.

Some guests believe that being polite means helping the host. Others believe a good guest should relax and allow the host to look after everything.

And sometimes we follow a rule without remembering exactly when or why it started.

I know what I prefer in my own home. I like people to remove their shoes, I appreciate guests who offer to help, and I think everybody should leave the bathroom clean.

But I also know that other families have their own ways of doing things.

Perhaps the most interesting part of visiting somebody is discovering those differences. We do not always have to agree with them, and we do not have to adopt every new habit we encounter.

We just have to remember that the person opening the door may have a completely different idea of what is normal.

And, in my case, I would still recommend checking your socks before you visit.

By Alexander and Julia, Germany.

The restaurant bill.

Julia.

When Alexander and I go to a nice restaurant, I never have to worry about what happens when the waiter brings the bill. I simply lean back, relax and watch the scenery.

Alexander pays.

There is no discussion about whose turn it is, and I don’t need to reach for my wallet. It’s just the way things work between us. Even if Alexander forgets his wallet, he can pay with his phone or his watch.

I like that arrangement. It’s easy for me.

Of course, there was one evening in Berlin when things weren’t quite so easy. We met friends at a restaurant called Sticks’n’Sushi, and the bill came to around €250. I hadn’t realised beforehand how expensive the restaurant was.

Alexander told me afterwards that it was much too expensive. I think his idea of a reasonable restaurant bill is a little lower than that.

Alexander.

I can’t disagree with Julia about the restaurant. I pay. That is completely correct.

I normally make the reservation as well. We talk about what we want to eat, decide where to go, and then I book the table. If we want to try a new restaurant, we simply go there. If it’s good, we go back.

For me, that’s very easy.

The evening in Berlin was a little different. I remember the bill, but during our conversation I was surprised to hear again just how expensive it had been.

Normally, I don’t worry so much when we go out for dinner. If we want to go somewhere, we go. But €250 is still €250.

Two coffees in a car park.

Alexander.

I paid on our first date too, although it wasn’t a very expensive date.

We met in a car park and had two coffees to go.

That was all.

It probably doesn’t sound very romantic, but I don’t see a problem with it. We didn’t have much time, and we wanted to see each other.

When I was asked whether I regretted that first date, I had to think about the English word regret for a moment.

But my answer was simple. No, I don’t regret it.

Why should I?

Julia.

I still think the coffee in the car park was perfectly fine.

Alexander and I had already known each other for many years, although not very well. His grandparents lived next door to my parents, so he wasn’t a stranger to me.

We didn’t have much time that day, but we wanted to meet. A coffee to go was enough.

I also knew something about Alexander’s attitude towards relationships. He is quite traditional and attached to old-fashioned roles. So when we started dating, I expected him to pay when we went out.

That didn’t surprise me.

It’s simply part of the man I know.

The packages arriving at our door

Alexander.

When I’m asked what Julia regularly spends money on that she doesn’t really need, I don’t have to think very long.

Packages.

For some time, I have had the feeling that a package arrives at our house almost every day. Sometimes it’s from Amazon, sometimes from somewhere else.

For some time, I have had the feeling that a package arrives at our house almost every day.

I don’t always understand what Julia needs all these things for.

But I have become used to it. And if she pays for something herself, that’s her decision. As I said during our conversation, it’s not my beer.

Julia.

I think Alexander’s description is a little unfair.

Yes, I order things online. But that doesn’t mean everything in those packages is unnecessary.

Sometimes I order ordinary household products. Almond milk is a good example. I’ve found that the same product costs around €3 in the supermarket but only €1.99 on Amazon.

Why should I pay more for exactly the same thing?

I’m not buying something ridiculous. I’m saving money on something we actually use.

And clothes are everyday things too.

I think Alexander sometimes sees the packages arriving without knowing what’s inside or why I’ve ordered them.

Alexander.

I have to admit that Julia has a point about the almond milk.

That’s a good example of sensible shopping.

But I still think there are other things we don’t need.

A new computer mouse, for example.

The €100 question.

Alexander.

When we were asked what we would do if somebody unexpectedly gave each of us €100, my answer was clear.

I would save it.

I think Julia would probably spend hers on the first day.

If somebody gave her €100, I could imagine her buying a new mouse for our new laptop.

But I don’t think we need one. I already have a very good mouse, and Julia has a mouse too. Mine is a working mouse, but it’s perfectly good for working.

For me, buying another one doesn’t make sense.

Julia.

Alexander is quite confident that I would immediately spend my €100.

But that’s not what I say.

I would actually try to save it too.

And if Alexander knows I’ve received the money, I think there’s a good chance he will save it for me anyway.

I have no difficulty predicting what he would do with his own €100. He would put it with the rest of his money.

Saving is something he understands very well.

He also does a little trading and investing, although I’m not always convinced that every piece of financial advice he receives is a good idea.

Still, I know that his first thought is to keep the money rather than spend it.

The weekends with the guys.

Julia.

Of course, Alexander isn’t the only person who can question whether something is necessary.

When I’m asked what he spends money on that I don’t really understand, I think about his trips with the guys.

They already meet regularly on Mondays. And then there are sometimes weekends away, including overnight stays.

I don’t always understand why those extra trips are necessary, especially when they see each other so often anyway.

Alexander thinks he hasn’t been away very much this year.

I remember the previous year a little differently. There were quite a lot of weekends.

Alexander.

I think Julia is being a little unfair about the trips.

This year, there have been much fewer of them. I remember Mallorca, but not very much else.

One trip isn’t so much.

I know that Julia doesn’t always understand why the weekends are necessary. But for me, spending time with my friends is something I enjoy.

I can’t really complain about her shopping without allowing her to have an opinion about my weekends.

We simply have different ideas about what is worth spending money on.

Five pairs of shoes.

Alexander.

I think the best example of my attitude towards money is something that happened shortly before our conversation.

I was considering buying a new pair of shoes for a trade fair. They were very comfortable, but they cost around €150.

My sister-in-law had found a place where I could buy them. She told me I should try them on because the sizes were a little unusual.

I thought about it and slept on it for one night.

The next day I decided not to buy them.

For me, €150 is a lot of money, and I don’t really need another pair of shoes. So I saved the money.

When I was asked how many pairs I already owned, I counted them. Five pairs, including my football shoes, everyday shoes and winter boots.

I think that’s enough.

Julia.

For me, the shoe question is very easy.

I would buy them.

Alexander has found shoes that are comfortable and useful for his work. He spends time at trade fairs, so I don’t see why buying a suitable pair is such a problem.

But Alexander prefers to save the €150.

When I was asked how many pairs of shoes I own, I didn’t give a number. I wasn’t even sure myself, and I thought it was rather a mean question to ask while Alexander was sitting beside me.

He has five pairs.

I have more than five.

That’s probably enough information.

Shopping together, but separately.

Alexander.

There is one household arrangement that I particularly like.

We have developed a very good system for grocery shopping. Instead of doing one enormous weekly shop, we go more frequently and buy smaller amounts.

Julia goes into the supermarket.

I stay in the car with our son.

For me, that’s perfect. I don’t particularly enjoy shopping, and our son is quite happy sitting with me listening to Paw Patrol or Bobo Siebenschläfer.

He is relaxed, and I am relaxed.

Julia does the shopping, and afterwards we all go home.

I think it’s a very good solution.

Julia.

I agree that our system works, although I wouldn’t describe grocery shopping as something I go into the supermarket to enjoy.

Our son is very active, and taking him around the shop isn’t always easy. It’s much simpler if Alexander stays with him in the car while I buy what we need.

I normally have a shopping list with the essential things. Then I ask Alexander what he wants to eat and buy the rest.

That part sometimes creates another problem.

Alexander doesn’t always know what he wants.

And somehow, we always come back to chicken.

Chicken with chicken.

Alexander.

I have noticed that we eat quite a lot of chicken.

Chicken with something.

Something with chicken.

Sometimes it feels like chicken with chicken.

Julia has become more interested in healthy food, and I think our meals are getting a little repetitive.

But when she explains her side of the story, I have to admit that part of the problem is mine.

When Julia asks what I want to eat, I often can’t think of anything.

I’m not very creative with meals.

Sometimes I have a complete blackout and can’t remember another dish.

So I tell her to choose.

And she chooses chicken.

Julia.

I don’t think the chicken situation is very complicated.

I’m happy to cook something else. I can even cook two different versions if necessary.

But I need Alexander to tell me what he wants.

I ask him, and he often says that I should choose.

So I choose.

If he wants something different, that’s fine with me. I don’t only eat chicken. I’m happy with other kinds of meat and other meals.

The problem is that Alexander doesn’t always have an idea.

I can’t choose something he wants if he doesn’t know what that is.

The household zoo.

Julia.

Some of our household responsibilities have never really been discussed.

The animals are a good example.

When I was pregnant, Alexander took over cleaning the cat litter tray. There were health reasons for that, so it made sense.

But afterwards we never really talked about changing the arrangement.

Alexander simply continued doing it.

And it isn’t only the cat. We also have turtles and other animal responsibilities.

I think our little zoo has more or less become Alexander’s department.

Alexander.

That’s correct.

I started looking after the cat litter tray when Julia was pregnant. Afterwards, the responsibility stayed with me.

It isn’t something we need to discuss every week.

I just do it.

But that doesn’t mean all the unpleasant household jobs belong to one person. When our son was a baby, for example, we shared changing nappies.

For me, some responsibilities are simply practical. Somebody has to do them, and we’ve found a way that works.

The holiday budget

Alexander.

I don’t always need to be the person controlling the money.

When we went on holiday to Croatia with a large group of family and friends, we used one communal budget.

There were about fifteen of us. Each family paid money into the common pot, and the money was used for food, drinks and everyday shopping.

Somebody else managed the budget.

I was completely relaxed about that.

For our family, I remember paying around €200 for the week. Everybody had breakfast, lunch and dinner, and on the last day we even received some money back.

I think that was fair.

And it was easy because I didn’t have to organise the shopping myself.

Julia.

I liked that arrangement too.

It made the holiday simple. We didn’t need to keep going to the supermarket or discuss every little purchase.

Other people in the group took care of the shopping and the money.

For me, it worked very well.

It’s interesting because Alexander normally likes to keep control of his finances, but on that holiday he was happy for somebody else to manage the communal budget.

Sometimes it’s simply easier to let another person do the job.

The €10,000 question

Julia.

When we were asked what we would do if we unexpectedly received €10,000, I didn’t have to think for very long.

I would save it.

We’re planning our home, and that amount of money could make a real difference.

Alexander sometimes thinks that I want to spend money immediately, but there’s a difference between buying everyday things and receiving a large amount that can help us with something important.

For me, €10,000 belongs to the second category.

Alexander.

My answer is the same.

I would save it.

I know that I sometimes appear a little boring when it comes to money, but I have reasons for being careful.

I want to save for our son. I also think about the future, when Julia and I are older and eventually retire.

I don’t know exactly what we’ll need then.

And I don’t feel that I need very many things now.

If something is really necessary, I buy it. But I don’t see a reason to spend money simply because I have it.

That’s why I didn’t buy the shoes.

Christmas is different.

Julia.

Christmas is one area where Alexander and I still need to find a better arrangement.

I love Christmas, but I know that it isn’t always easy for him.

There are many family celebrations, birthdays and presents. It’s a very busy time, and Alexander doesn’t particularly enjoy all the preparations.

I think we might need to change some of our traditions in the coming years.

The children are getting older, and there might be more children in the family in future. We can’t necessarily continue doing everything exactly as we have always done it.

I want to find a way that makes the period a little easier for Alexander.

But I also know that he has married into a family where Christmas is important.

Alexander.

Christmas is difficult for me because there are so many things happening.

It isn’t simply about buying presents.

There are parties and birthdays, decorations and preparations. Sometimes I have to move furniture, prepare the house and organise things before everybody arrives.

Julia can organise Christmas, but that doesn’t mean I can just sit down and relax.

I still have work to do.

When we talk about changing the traditions, I’m not sure what we can actually remove.

We can’t cancel somebody’s birthday.

We can’t cancel Christmas.

So I don’t immediately know how to make it easier.

Julia is more open to changing some of the arrangements, and perhaps that’s something we’ll have to discuss.

The rules that work.

Alexander.

When I think about all the things we’ve discussed, I can see that Julia and I have quite different attitudes towards spending money.

I prefer to save. I like knowing that money is available if the family really needs something.

Julia is more comfortable buying things that she considers useful or worthwhile, even when I’m not always convinced.

But we’ve also found plenty of practical arrangements.

I pay when we go to restaurants. Julia does the grocery shopping. I look after the animals, and I stay with our son while she goes into the supermarket.

Some of these arrangements have developed without us ever making an official agreement.

For me, most of them work quite well.

I still don’t think we need another computer mouse.

Julia.

I think Alexander and I understand each other quite well, even if we don’t always agree about what is necessary.

He is careful with money, and I know that saving is important to him.

I like shopping, but I don’t think every purchase is unnecessary. Sometimes buying something makes everyday life easier, and sometimes it’s simply a better deal.

I don’t always understand the weekends with his friends, just as he doesn’t always understand the packages arriving at our door.

But there are plenty of things we don’t need to argue about.

I know that when we go to a restaurant, Alexander will pay.

He knows that when we need groceries, I’ll go into the supermarket.

And when he can’t think of anything he wants for dinner, I know what I can cook.

Chicken.

Again.