“Thank you for not apologizing”

A few days ago, I was to meet my wife at a mall at 6.30 p.m. but what with having to deal with a few delicious last-minute emails at work, it was 6.50 by the time I reached there.

“Thank you for coming early,” I said.

“I didn’t come early,” she said coldly. “You came late.”

“Yes!” I said enthusiastically. “Thank you for waiting.”

She didn’t take it well. “At least have the decency to say ‘I’m sorry’,” she said in a clear healthy voice that carried to nearby shoppers.

“Don’t embarrass us in front of all these people,” I hissed, lowering my voice. I clutched her elbow and took her to a secluded area in the mall. “Etiquette has evolved, woman. You need to keep up with the times. It’s no longer chic to say ‘I’m sorry’. The right form nowadays is to thank the other person for the inconvenience.”

“What nonsense are you talking?” she said.

“I don’t blame you for not understanding,” I said. “I myself picked up this new form of manners only in the last week.” I began to relate what I had learnt.

The problem with tennis in America

In my youth – that is, a few years ago – America was known for Big Business, Disneyland and Tennis. Having observed (with mild amusement) British aristocrats in white flannels and full-sleeved shirts moving sedately around the court and sipping tea afterwards, the Americans took up tennis with gusto and soon began to dominate it. In the eighties and nineties the US had so soundly established its supremacy over the game that it was difficult to find a non-American male player in the top 10. Today things are reversed: Sam Querrey, the highest-ranked American man, is at Number 20!

When I visited the United States two weeks ago, I came face-to-face with the problem with tennis in the country. I landed on the weekend of the Rome Masters 1000 tennis finals, a much-anticipated repeat of the phenomenal rivalry between Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal, Obviously the first thing I did, even before ironing my shirts, was to check out the room television set.

“Wow, digital!” I said and began looking for Tennis, the only channel showing the match. After clicking through the hotel’s 43 channels three times, I rang the concierge.

“I can’t find the Tennis channel on television.”

“Which channel, Sir?” he asked.

“Tennis.”

“How do you spell it?”

After I helped him out, he checked while I waited.

“Sorry, Sir. We have many options: entertainment, sports, news, travel… we just don’t seem to have this particular channel.” His tone conveyed a hint of reproach at my unreasonable, exotic request. “Perhaps you’d like to watch the action-packed thriller Taken 2 available ‘on demand’?”