“…Yes, of course, I totally understand… mhmm, yep… oh, you do what you need, no worries at all, honestly”.
My girlfriend hung up the phone and before she said a word, I knew what had happened. Not due to remarkable skills of deduction but simply because it’s a script I’ve both heard and used far too often.
After months of organising a weekend away with her friends, one had called to pull out. It was Friday.
Pottering around the kitchen, she recited the reasons the friend had provided; they were overwhelmed and at capacity, busy and not feeling up to socialise; all-to-familiar phrases that include enough vague references to mental health to prevent criticism without inviting concern.
Not that most of us would dream of confronting someone who cans last minute. If anything, we can feel obligated to absolve the person of possible guilt by concealing our own emotions and praising their decision.
Hey, I interjected, it’s okay to be upset. And you should be allowed to tell the person you are, without it being seen as a guilt trip. If they feel guilty, well, that’s simply feeling the consequences of a decision.
Of course, easier said than done. Rewind to a Friday night a few weeks prior. Two girlfriends and I are busy in a kitchen prepping food and discussing people’s tendency to bemoan the lack of fun gatherings whilst simultaneously refusing to commit fully to those that do occur.
Truthfully, the indignation was simply anxiety in disguise; a kind of nervousness that hits right before an event, when you’re standing in an empty room full of untouched food, trying desperately not to look desperate. Only two people had cancelled that day but it wasn’t impossible to imagine more flaking just 30 minutes beforehand; something that got me thinking about how technology, community and etiquette intersect and interact.
When I talk about flaking, I’m not talking about missing an event due to uncontrollable circumstances; illness or injury to yourself or someone close, work demands or transport trouble. It’s also not changing your RSVP a reasonable amount of time in advance (‘reasonable’ depends on the event; if it’s catered, how important your attendance is and whether your invite meant someone else wasn’t invited due to number limits).
No, flaking is when one chooses to skip an event, close to the start time, because they’d prefer not to attend. Reasons can range from flimsy (their friend also flaked, something better came up, traffic was terrible) to quite compelling (they’re physically tired or emotionally spent). And it’s easy to judge the flimsy reasons but the latter, whist being valid emotions or circumstances, don’t actually stop you showing up; they simply make it less appealing. The decision is still yours but all too often, we prioritise our mercurial moods ahead of our commitments.
Consequentially, this makes hosting, be it a casual brunch or a weekend away, really bloody hard.
See, a good host is one who cares about the people who come and what their experience is like, at least a little. Yet today, when the hold of an RSVP is weak and the likelihood of flaking is high, hosts must care enough to dedicate time and energy to organise something but not so much they would feel bad (and, god forbid express that disappointment) if someone decided, on a whim, to not show up.
It. Is. Infuriating. Even worse, one can know it’s terrible and do it anyway. Weeks ago, I changed my RSVP an hour before a party, without contacting the host. How? Simply by changing my response on the Facebook event. To be fair, it was a large house party but the ability to instantly and indirectly bow out did make me wonder how the digitisation of invitations has impacted our commitment to events.
Digitisation; From snail mail to Facebook posts
Today, Facebook events and group Facebook messages are the invitation de-jour and it’s no mystery as to why; these platforms are instant, free and almost universally used.
Of course, with benefits come costs. Online, content is impermanent and context is abstracted; qualities that make these formats feel more casual and fluid, which can induce flakiness.
In 1923, or heck, 1993, it wasn’t possible to cancel last minute unless the host happened to be home and could answer the phone. Otherwise, you were a no-show, without explanation.
Now, not only can I alter an RSVP or contact you instantly, I can do it without a face-to-face confrontation. Instead, I flick over a text or change the online tick box the moment desire wavers.
Individualism: Flaking as the new ‘self-care’
When we do offer an explanation, there is an uncannily universal script. You know, the one that sounds like: “It’s been a day/week” or “I’m just totally at capacity”. It’s the equivalent of telling someone you’re putting your oxygen mask on before assisting others, and today, that looks like not going to games night at your house, Lauren.
It frames our flake as a compulsory act of self-care we are obligated to fulfil. It’s no longer “I don’t want to” but, “I can’t”.
Reflecting on times I indulge in this script, it’s typically because I want to shut down any pushback (it’s hard to argue with “I can’t”) and/or make it clear to the person that it’s not personal. But isn’t it, just a little? I’ll be the first to admit there are certain people in life I can dig a little deeper for and show up, even if it’s just for 25 minutes.
The extent to which aspirational individualism and digitization have normalised and enabled flake culture becomes even more obvious when you examine the time before Facebook events and the ‘you do you’ ideology. A time when social behaviour was explicitly governed by a little something called etiquette.
For issues of etiquette, few people are more qualified to turn to than Elizabeth Post, the Queen of decorum who penned a book titled ETIQUETTE in 1922; a manual that became the standard for upper-class families in the UK and beyond.
While I’m hesitant to rose-tint the past, it’s easy to imagine that flaking was less common in the 1920s than today. Not because people didn’t want to or because Post pronounced it as rude but it was also technically very difficult.
‘RVSVP’ stood for ‘répondez s’il vous plaît’ and its use came about by Brits trying to be chic like the French. As for the rules of an RSVP, Post said one must reply “in a month or two of receiving the invitation” unless it was a dinner invitation, which had to be answered “immediately” in the form you received the invitation (post or telephone).
What did Post think of flaking?
“Nothing but serious illness or death or an utterly unavoidable accident can excuse the breaking of a dinner engagement.” Talk about a high bar.
The etiquette expert even covered the oh-so-millennial tactic of cancelling because something better came up. Post’s opinion? It made you an “unmitigated snob” and should prompt people to cut you from their ‘visiting list’.
“Don’t accept an invitation if you don’t care about it,” Post wrote.
One could ‘occasionally’ cancel on friends and family but to avoid taking them for granted and abusing the “privilege of intimacy,” Post had some rules.
“An engagement, even with a member of one’s family, ought never to be broken twice within a brief period, or it becomes apparent that the other’s presence is more a fill-in of idle time than a longed-for pleasure.” *Mic drop* from our mate Post.
That one would just decide to not come to an event right beforehand wasn’t just rude, it was literally unthinkable back then. Now, as with any old text, context is important. ETIQUETTE was a somewhat classist text for the elite (and wanna-be-elite). Just because something was the ‘done’ thing, doesn’t mean it’s the right thing.
Yet, it’s worth recognizing that, while the process of skipping an event or changing an RSVP is easier, the impact on our relationships or wider community hasn’t lessened. We just don’t have to face the confrontation face-on or right away.
Post’s guide to RSVP-ing in the 21st Century
More than a century on, The Emily Post Institute continues the legacy of “promoting etiquette based on consideration, respect and honesty”, with Post’s great-great-granddaughter, Lizzie Post, as a co-president.
Speaking on the Atlantic’s podcast ‘How to Talk to People’ in June, Lizzie said that, to avoid disappointment around RSVPs and showing up, friends should openly share their experiences and opinions around RSVPs and hosting.
“I would let friends know, like, as we talk about entertaining styles and preferences. I mean, these are things friends can talk about,” she told the Atlantic.
She also advocated for attending an event, even if feelings suggest otherwise. “It’s amazing to see what you actually still have in your reserves when you attempt a moment of giving and generosity when you feel like you don’t have anything,” she said.
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