Last night I served a fellow who wore his hat at the table. In the presence of a lady. He even ate with it on. That’s it, I thought. Western civilization has totally collapsed.

I blame the serving classes. We are the front-line enforcers and changers of basic social norms. That is our power. We do not use it. Sadly, it has even become impossible to use it.

If I were to ask this fellow — and I use that term with hesitation — to remove his hat, I would be considered the maniac. Society would think that he was in the right. He would have some notion of liberty to back him up. Well, if that’s freedom, you can keep it.

If the woman paying for his meal is gender equality, you can keep that too.

Things can only be in such a state because the working classes hate themselves. Servers are not proud to be servers. They do not see it as a craft. Most are simply killing time until they become world famous for something or other.

Corporations have somehow managed to convince people that everyone should be a superstar (buying their products will, coincidentally, help you achieve this) and that being cool is more important than being proper. It is not. It never will be. And you will never be famous. You are a server. It is a good job and you should be happy to have it. For God’s sake – what good is fame anyway? Does Britney look happy to you?

There is a persistent and pernicious delusion out there; one that causes people to ask, after they ask what I do, what I really do. This immediately says that being a waiter is, somehow, not good enough. They need to know that I also write science fiction. I am supposed to believe that what I really do is exercise Godlike control over future civilizations, aliens and robots. Well, that’s not what I really do. That’s what my imagination does in its spare time. In reality, I bring you your drink and meal. Believing things to be otherwise is utterly, irredeemably mad. And yet it is common.

The fellow at the table must be suffering from a similar lunacy. He believes that it is more important to maintain some sort of image than it is to engage in common decency. And manners are practical. There are certain human traits that we have codified. Some of these codes grow obsolete and become repressive tools. Others relate right back to our simian heritage and serve an important purpose.

Standing up when someone enters a room shows respect. Shaking a hand or waving shows you are unarmed. Removing your hat does both and allows me to see your face so that I may better understand you. Leaving your hat on says: I have no respect for you, I do not care if you can understand me and I am so hopelessly neurotic that I cannot endure eye contact. It also says: I’m bald and ashamed.

So, if you’re going to eat, remove your fucking hat. Period.