F. Scott Fitzgerald got it wrong; it’s not the rich who are different from you and me — it’s the posh. There is no social act so rude or outrageous that it cannot be explained and then excused on the grounds that the perpetrator was posh.
I was recently at a drinks party and saw a man scratching his bottom in front of the buffet table — a full, hand-down–trouser buttock-scratch. With the very same hand that he’d used on his bottom, he picked up a sausage, examined it and put it back in the pile. He then picked up another sausage and put it back. Then, after another quick bottom–scratch, he began to poke around the samosas.
Cosmo Landesman debates the posh with etiquette guru Liz Brewer:
The thought that maybe it was inconsiderate to indulge in bottom-scratching and sausage-hunting with the same hand never occurred to this man. When I confronted him with the antisocial nature of his actions, instead of reacting with acute embarrassment and a profusion of apologies, he just laughed and went off, no doubt, to fondle other bits of party food.
I informed our hostess about what I had witnessed, adding, ‘He must be totally pissed!’ But instead of sharing my sense of concern she shrugged her shoulders and said, ‘Oh no, he’s not pissed.
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