Bad Answers to Quick Questions, Volume I

Misguided but mercifully brief replies to (almost) everything you've asked

Welcome back to Geoff Rodkey’s Bad Advice! Today, we’re clearing out the question cupboard with a speed round of everything you’ve asked so far that I’m capable of answering in three sentences or less. 

If you read to the end, there’s a VERY SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT! So that’s exciting! Or at least I’m trying to make it seem that way with the all caps and the exclamation points.

But first, some pithy answers to a whole bunch of your questions:

How do you tell a friend that his bride-to-be sucks?

You can’t. Just keep it to yourself and wait for the divorce. Which might take a few years, so if he’s borrowed any of your stuff, get it back before the wedding. He’s going to a dark place, and you won’t be visiting him there, because guess what? His bride-to-be probably thinks you suck, too.

These wedding guests also have concerns

How do you take the car keys from your mom in her eighties after several fender benders? 

Offer to buy her a new car. If she accepts, get her one with a manual transmission. She’ll probably never make it out of the driveway again. But if she does, she’ll have earned it.

Why can’t I sleep anymore?

You’re old. Like most of the people reading this column. We’ll probably never enjoy another full night of uninterrupted sleep again. Our only recourse is solidarity: I think we should start a group text called “3 A.M. Open Discussion.”

At what age can I stop giving birthday gifts to godchildren? 

At what age did you start? I don’t how to tell you this, but I think you might be the victim of some kind of scam. Nobody’s ever asked me to be a godparent, so I don’t know what kind of weird religio-cultural briar patch you’ve gotten yourself stuck in. But if you ask me, the only things a godparent should be responsible for are raising the kid if the unthinkable happens and buying them beer when they’re teenagers.

I read your column regularly and I find it very hlepful. I now have a question of my own. My daughter doesn't answer my text messages regardless of the number of heart emojiis that then turn into "Hello????" that turn into "Are you okay?" that turn into "WTF This is your mother and I pay for your goddamn phone." To which she usually FINALLY responds and says "that's so manipulative" to which I respond "yes that's why I said it." Then eventually after fighting and not communicating for a bit she apologizes and says she won't do it again and then the pattern happens again like clockwork. I really need HELP.

Great callback to the “hlep” joke! But I’m struggling to understand why you need help. This sounds like a totally normal parent-child dynamic. Although you might consider smoothing down the rough edges of your tone if you want your daughter to keep talking to you once she starts paying for her own phone. Adult kids are playing emotional hardball these days.

When you make an arrangement to get together with someone, is it okay for them to invite somebody ELSE along?

No. NO. Jesus! I’m getting mad just thinking about this. People are animals.

If you’ve waited for a table and have finished your meal, what’s the obligation to give up your precious real estate when others are waiting?

The decent thing is to give up your seat. Which seems kind of obvious, but you asked, so I guess it’s not? In which case, size up whoever’s waiting for your table. Everything’s political nowadays, so if they look like they vote the same way you do, yield your spot and give them a friendly smile on the way out. If not, cling to that table like grim death. The country’s cracking up, and you might as well speed the plow.

When a waitress in a restaurant suggests something on the menu that she insists is fantastic, should I believe her?  How do I know the restaurant isn't just trying to unload something that's about to go bad, or pushing the most expensive thing on the menu? 

Does the waitress look like she votes the same way you do? If so, you can trust her implicitly. If not, she’s definitely trying to screw you. 

Any bad advice on how to deal with the craziness of this next election cycle and how to get through it without losing years of our life from worry?

Channel your fear into constructive action by volunteering for a local campaign or get-out-the-vote effort; donate money to candidates at the state legislative level and below, where your dollars are much more effective than in federal races; get ALL of your political information from nonpartisan written sources like the Associated Press, and spend a maximum of fifteen minutes a day reading it; never ever EVER watch cable TV news or engage with any kind of politics-related content on social media; and only eat at restaurants where the wait staff looks like they vote the same way you do.

Am I feeding my kids too much rice? 

This question is bewildering. How much rice is too much? Actually, never mind; it doesn’t matter. One of my nephews ate nothing but chocolate milk and Wonder Bread until he was fourteen, at which point he was six foot two. Nothing. Matters.

How do you gracefully extricate yourself from a conversation with someone at a party? "I'm going to get a drink" is an obvious lie, and I stand there talking with people and thinking the whole time, "When do I move on? How do I move on? Why am I talking to this person? Why is he talking to me? Why did I come here? I hate parties."

This is really embarrassing: I’ve always gone the “I’m going to get a drink” route. But now you’re telling me they know I’m lying?? Thank God I haven’t been invited to a party since 2016. 

Gas, hybrid, or electric only? 

Did you come here because Consumer Reports is paywalled? Just cough up the ten bucks. They do good work.

Would you share some bad advice on Bitcoin? 

The best time to buy it was ten years ago. The second-best time is never.

My unread New Yorkers have piled up. I’m never going to read them, but I hang on to them because…well. Because. Please tell me it’s ok to dump them.

If you’re like me, you’re not subscribing to The New Yorker for the articles, or even the cartoons. You’re subscribing because you want to maintain your self-image as the kind of person who reads The New Yorker. 

Toss an issue on the tank of whatever toilet a visitor to your home is most likely to use, then throw out the rest. You owe them nothing.

How do I get my L.A. personal trainer to ease up on our workouts so that my shoulder tendinitis can heal?  

Have you tried saying something to her along the lines of, “Hey, can you ease up on our workouts so my shoulder tendinitis can heal?”

I’m sorry I had to redact the subsequent 250 words of your question, in which you tried to rationalize the emotionally fraught, totally dysfunctional relationship you’ve developed with the woman you pay to stand over you and count your push-ups.

But for the 85% of Bad Advice readers who don’t live in Los Angeles, your full explanation would meet with such baffled disbelief that I’m worried they’d start to suspect I’m just making this stuff up. And then I’d have credibility issues.

Which is not to say you don’t have a serious problem on your hands. Is there an L.A. version of couples therapy, but for personal trainers and their clients? If so, make an appointment ASAP.

My husband’s one flaw is he relies on the sock fairy to put his socks in the laundry basket. How do I tell him the sock fairy doesn’t exist and I’m sick of putting his socks in the laundry basket?

Okay, this is awkward: there actually IS a sock fairy. She just doesn’t come to your house. Did you offend her?

It seems like every coffee shop and food place in the US now has the option to add a tip at checkout, even if it's takeout only and there’s no table service. Do I need to leave a tip every time? 

Can you afford it? Then yes. Whoever’s behind the counter probably needs the money more than you do.

And if you ever go broke, it won’t be because you tipped too much. 

Although tipping on a credit card invites theft by unscrupulous employers, so leave cash whenever possible. It’s a pain in the neck keeping enough small bills on hand, but if being thoughtful and generous was easy, everybody would do it.

My dog is normally well-behaved.  However, as a puppy he developed a special fondness for baby carrots.  Now, whenever he sees baby carrots on a plate he will bark incessantly until we give him one.  And he's never satisfied with just one.

When we have company, my wife will often serve baby carrots with a dip.  She says they are less work to prepare than, say, sliced bell peppers or cucumbers.  The dog will bark throughout our hors d'oeuvres, ruining the mood.  We don't want to give in to this kind of extortion, but we do want him to shut up.

In addition, he is diabetic.  Carrots are relatively high in sugar, and so they are not an ideal snack for him.

If we put him in another room he'll cry until he's let out. 

What should we do?

This isn’t a “we” problem, it’s a “you” problem: get off your butt and cut the crudité so your wife doesn’t have to do it. Otherwise, you’re going to have to re-home your dog to a family with a more energetic husband.

How do you REALLY clean grout? I’m serious on this. 

Go to YouTube. Type “how to clean grout” into the search bar. Then watch the video with the most views. (Spoiler alert: it’s this one.)

Sometimes when I want to heat something for a minute and a half in the microwave, I type in 1:30 instead of :90. This is clearly not the more efficient choice and I end up berating myself for what feels like action without consideration. Is this the tip of the iceberg of our determinism? A glimpse into the simulation? Or should I just use the stovetop? 

You’re overthinking this.

Unless you’re reheating fish. In which case, use the stovetop.

At what age should I stop eating sour patch kids? 

Why would you stop? Stay gold, Ponyboy!

We have awkward situations at my Rothmans clothing stores every day. It seems that almost every guy that walks in for a suit asks for “an athletic cut, you know, for someone who’s really big on top, super narrow at the waist, but still has really big quads.” Except that almost all of the men asking for this “athletic cut” are built like most guys: a little extra around the middle, banged up, fraying rotator cuff shoulders, and diminishing quads. How do I politely break the news to them that they’re just like everyone else, and not some Greek god? 

You flatter them with lies, Ken. Encourage their self-deception long enough to make the sale, then hand them off to your tailor and let him fix it. But you knew this already, didn’t you? And you only wrote in so I’d plug your SITEWIDE 20% OFF MEMORIAL DAY WEEKEND ONLINE SALE?

Smart move! You’re a canny marketer. Please send an affiliate link.

How can I become a writer?

You already are one, my friend! You’re just not getting paid for it. Don’t worry: nobody else is, either.

How does one live in NYC?

By developing the capacity to ignore loud noises, human suffering, and giant piles of garbage on the sidewalk. If you aren’t already here, consider not coming at all. Because no matter when you move to New York, you’ll eventually realize it stopped being cool about six months before you showed up.

How can I survive my midlife crisis with my sanity and relationships intact?

Have you tried starting an advice column?

I feel like I was 30 a few years ago, but I snapped my fingers and now I’m 67. Which means I probably have less than 20 years left. How do I cope with this knowledge? Twenty years goes by in the blink of an eye. 

I have two suggestions: either read Ernest Becker’s The Denial of Death, or start an advice column. 

Thanks for reading, everybody! I hope you found this advice unhelpful.

And here’s the VERY SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT:

I’m all out of questions.

Except for a couple that stumped me, and I couldn’t come up with a reply worth publishing. (If you submitted one of those, I failed you, and I’m sorry.)

I know what you’re thinking: what kind of idiot burns through two dozen perfectly good questions in a single column, only to declare question bankruptcy at the end of it?

Fair point. I’m already regretting this. It was a dumb idea.

And not just dumb, but codependent: I’ve put us both in a real pickle here. If you want more Bad Advice, I NEED MORE QUESTIONS.

From you! Specifically, YOU—because if you’ve read this far, you’re either enjoying the column, or you have way too much time on your hands.

So I’d be eternally grateful if you could spend a few extra minutes of that time thinking up a question and sending it to me by replying to this email, or leaving a comment, or whatever.

Any topic is great, as long as you’re soliciting some kind of advice. Sincere (okay, fine, semi-sincere) questions are better, as are shorter ones, but there’s no such thing as a bad question.

There are only bad answers. And with your help, more of those will be coming soon.

Thanks in advance for enabling my profligacy!