The Man With Perfect Manners

How Paul Ford became the model for modern etiquette (just read his go-to party trick that works every time)

MOST PEOPLE DON’T notice I’m polite, which is the point. I don’t look polite. I am big and droopy and need a haircut. No soul would associate me with watercress sandwiches. Still, every year or so, someone takes me aside and says, “You actually are weirdly polite, aren’t you?” I always thrill. They noticed.

The complimenters don’t always formulate it gently. Two years ago, at the end of an arduous corporate project, my office mate turned to me and said, “When we started working together, I thought you were a terrible suck-up.”

She frowned. “But it actually helped get things done. It was a strategy.”

My co-worker was surprised to see the stubborn power of politeness over time. Over time. That’s the thing. Mostly we talk about politeness in the moment: please; thank you; no, go ahead; I like your hat; sir, ma’am, etc. All good but fleeting.

When I was in high school, I read etiquette manuals. Emily Post [19th century etiquette expert] and so forth. There was good stuff about how to write a note of condolence and ridiculous stuff about how to behave on boats. No one noticed my politeness except for one kid. He yelled at me about it. “Why you always so polite, man?” he asked. “It’s weird.”I took that as praise and made a note to hide my politeness further. Real politeness, I reasoned, was invisible. It adapted itself to the situation.

Say this at a party