Really. If I wanted to do whatever, it would take a really large reason to keep me away. “I’d love to go to that concert with you, but my niece is getting married that day.” That sort of thing.
When I say I can’t come for some really vague reason, like “I’ve already made other plans”, it means I DON’T WANT TO COME.
So don’t keep pushing and nagging, and offering to ‘take care of’ whatever the conflict is, okay?
Otherwise I’m going to have to flat out say “There’s no way in hell I am going to sit in the hot sun for hours just to watch your offspring graduate from junior high.”
I’d be happy to make a cogent reply to your post, but I’ve got a cake in the oven. Or an arms deal in Tangiers. Or I’m washing my hair. I don’t remember which.
This is one of my biggest pet peeves. When I say I can’t, I can’t, and that is all there is to say. I do not owe you an explanation. I do not have to justify how I spend my time to anyone. It seriously drives me nuts.
They didn’t want you to come sit in the hot sun for hours at a stupid ceremony, they wanted you to contribute financially to their offspring for completing a nominal and normal course of human development.
Just mail the little “graduate” a check, and the insistence that you attend will magically vanish, I swear it.
{Stands up, starts applauding this rant} Preach it! Do not mistake my politeness for being a pushover - I said I couldn’t make it/I’m not interested/I have other plans/whatever - quit pushing, or the politeness is likely to go away.
Miss Manners (Judith Martin)agrees with this. You may decline an invitation without giving any reason at all. In fact, she says that if the OP asks you for a reason, all you need to say (over and over, if necessary, and in a tone of mournful regret) is, “It’s just impossible.” Eventually they’ll give up if YOU don’t allow yourself to be guilted into giving a reason. Giving ANY reason just invites the clueless to argue with you. Making a flat statement (over and over with wistful sighs) ends the discussion.
Also: When the only events to which you ever invite me (or indeed, the only times I ever hear from you) are gift-giving occasions on behalf of your kid, I’m going to become less and less interested in repeat attendance.
Junior high? No way in hell that merits a check - since when is moving on to high school a great accomplishment? A college graduation, sure. A high school graduation, probably. But giving gifts for junior high “graduations” is the same as giving them for kindergarten graduations. Only for grandparents, if them. Hell, I barely sat through the middle school “graduation” ceremonies for my own offspring, much less tried to strong-arm others into coming!
Just outright say “While I’m pleased your son is moving up a grade, I think attending this event is really for immediate family and I do not want to be included.” Then send the kid a card - without money.
If the family is trying to garner money for little Jimmy, they’re crass. If they sincerely believe that Little Jimmy moving up a grade is a huge deal for others, they’re blind to reality.
Well, I don’t think it was motivated as a gift grab, exactly, more she’s the kind of mom who can’t believe that every little thing her child does isn’t of major, major importance to the rest of the world.
I’m sending the kid a congratulations card with a small gift card. (He’s an okay kid, it’s the mommy who gets on my nerves.)
“Thank you for asking, but I won’t be able to make it.” Because I don’t get out much anymore and I like it that way. Sit around in the sun and chat? No. Come to your tupperware/cooking gadget/sex toy party? No. Go out on the lake on your sailboat at night? Maybe. It’s got to be special or interesting before I even start thinking about it.
David Frost rang British comedium Peter Cook up some years ago: “Peter, I’m having a little dinner party on behalf of Prince Andrew and his new bride-to-be Sarah Ferguson. I know they’d love to meet you, big fans; Be super if you could make it: Wednesday the twelfth.” “Hang on… I’ll just check my diary.” Pause and rummaging and leafing through diary noises. And then Peter said “Oh dear. I find I’m watching television that night.”
Do you want to…?
No.
Why not?
Which part of NO don’t you understand. The N or the O?
Two types of people piss me off: Those who cannot ask outright (Well, I know you probably don’t want to, and you might maybe already have other plans, but if you’re not busy…) and those who don’t take NO for an answer.
A friend of mine managed one of the great come-backs to an overly insistent inviter:
A rather annoying acquaintance of his (named Fred) arrived with his fiance - they were planning a wedding (Fred’s fifth) in 3 weeks, and wanted my friend to attend. He’d been to the fourth about a year earlier and found it, and Fred, rather tiresome - so he politely declined.
But Fred was clearly not eager to accept his rather vague demurrals, and pressed just a bit too hard. The line that ended the discussion was “No Fred, I just won’t be able to make this wedding. But tell you what: I promise to catch the next one.”