Unit 3: Giving Excuses

When Henry asked Sheila to go to a dance with him last Saturday night, she responded by saying, “Oh, Henry, I’d love to go, but my Aunt Marion will be in town from New York, and I really have to take her out to dinner.”

When Albert showed up in his writing class without his composition, he said, “Dr. Tailor, you’ll never believe what happened to my paper. My dog chewed it up.”

When Jane’s grandmother invited her to the Senior Citizens Luncheon and Fashion Show on Saturday, Jane told her, “Oh, grandma, you know I wouldn’t miss out on it for the world, but I’ve just got to type up my term paper this weekend. I have to hand it in on Monday.”

What do these responses have in common? They all contain something we’ve all offered at one time or another to friends, relatives, teachers, police officers, or supervisors — excuses.

Could we go even a day without making some kind of excuse? It is highly unlikely. It would be difficult to give up excuses because we need them to help us get through the day. When we are asked to do something we don’t want to do or can’t possibly do, a plausible excuse is more gracious than a blunt no. Even if we make up an excuse, “tell a white lie” as we say, we may feel it is the right thing to do in order not to hurt someone’s feelings.

There are, of course, good excuses and bad excuses. A good excuse is easy and natural and has a ring of truth to it. A bad excuse is false and unbelievable. If you cannot get a paper in on time, it is probably a mistake to think up an excuse such as, “I spilled coffee all over it and was ashamed to turn it in in that condition”. If you don’t have a good solid excuse, such as a note from a physician, it might be better to say simply, “I’m sorry, but it just wasn’t possible for me to turn the paper in on time”.

Judith Martin, who writes the syndicated newspaper column “Miss Manners”, which offers advice on social etiquette to readers, would probably agree. She doesn’t believe in giving specific excuses in social situations. For example, when Aunt Ethel and Uncle Fred arrive in town unannounced and wake you up out of a sound sleep and invite you to meet them on the other side of town in a few hours, she suggests saying something like this: “Oh, we would have adored to see you and Uncle Fred — isn’t it rotten luck that the one time you were free is the time we simply can’t? Promise that next time you’re planning to come by you’ll remember to put us on the top of your advance notice list!”

Unit 4: a Friend in Need Is a Friend Indeed

This happened in Vienna at the beginning of 1922. I was slowly walking along one of the main streets of the city and though the day was warm and sunny everything seemed gloomy to me as I was out of work.

I had no idea whom to ask for help. Suddenly I remembered that a friend of mine, John Smith by name, had been working as an editor in Vienna for the last few months. I got in touch with him and we made an appointment for that evening.

When I told him my story he smiled and said happily, “I can help you. Listen…” The matter was that his boss, wishing to get greater profits, had decided to publish a number of detective novels which were to be translated from Spanish. They needed a man who could do it for them.

“So you will do it,” he finished.

“How can I do it? I don’t know Spanish.”

“It doesn’t matter,” answered he. “I dislike detective stories. Any translation will do.” I protested, he insisted, I protested, he insisted and at last he got me to agree to do it.

“Here is the novel, and some money in advance. The rest you’ll get after you have finished it. I guarantee good money,” he added. “I give you four days. Not more.” With these words he went away.

I was at a loss what to do. Then I went to a cheap restaurant where I found Hans. We all believed that he knew at least five or six languages including Spanish. I asked him to translate the novel. After some time he said, “You see I’ve been out of practice lately. But I’ll help you. I’ll take the novel, read it and then tell you its contents.” I liked the plan.

In some two or three days I wrote down the contents of the book and went to the editor. Smith was too busy to listen to what I wanted to tell him. “Here is your money. You earned it honestly. See you one of these days,” he said and went out. Later on I met Hans and gave him half of the money.

“I think I ought to study Spanish,” he said taking the money.

“But don’t you know it?” I asked him in great surprise.

“Certainly, I don’t,” he said. “I told you the contents of an English detective novel, I only changed the English names for Spanish.”

I immediately phoned Smith but could not get him on the phone. Some weeks later I met him and told him the truth. I expected him to get angry. He said laughing, “I’m glad I asked you to translate the book. It’s so terrible the people will never touch another detective story after they have read yours.”