Please Ask Me Questions, But Not Like This One

Do's and Don't's for interacting with your advice columnist

Welcome back to Geoff Rodkey’s Bad Advice! Things are going great so far, and I’m particularly grateful to those of you who’ve submitted questions. I literally can’t do this without them.

Thank you! You are the lifeblood of this effort! Please keep writing in!

But I’d really appreciate it if you limit yourselves to questions asked in good faith. 

Now, I can’t always figure out who’s serious and who’s just yanking my chain. Like, I’m still not sure if that guy with the cavapoo actually had a problem. 

But I gave him the benefit of the doubt. And I’ll extend the same goodwill to everybody.

There are limits, though. Here’s one that fell on the wrong side of the line, from A Woman My Age:

“Given that I’m 53, should I invest in a pair of Thinx? Like, how much longer is this going to go on?”

When I first read this question, I was pretty excited. Not just as an advice columnist, but a consumer.

See, judging by the name, I figured Thinx were like Spanx, but for memory loss. Specifically, the kind of age-related cognitive decline that leads me to stride purposefully into my kitchen, then stand motionless for several seconds while trying to remember why the hell I was so determined to go to the kitchen. 

This happens to me a lot. So when I heard about Thinx, I thought, “Thank God! A product that’s tailor-made for me and my problem!” 

I also found the second part of A.W.’s question—“how much longer is this going to go on?”—almost unbearably poignant. 

Because given what I thought I knew about Thinx, I was pretty sure that when she wrote “this,” she was referring to “life.” 

Which launched her question into a whole other realm of significance. Suddenly, it wasn’t just about middle-aged forgetfulness, but mortality itself—arguably the most profound, universally resonant topic in world literature. And also advice columns.

So I rolled up my sleeves and composed a real banger of an essay about the inevitability of death. I quoted Shakespeare, the Bible, and some guy named Rilke, because even though I’d barely heard of him and didn’t really understand what he was getting at, quoting him made me sound smart. 

Rainer Maria Rilke: so classy, he has three names

I was very pleased with my answer. Not to blow my own horn, but it was some A-plus work. 

Then, as part of the rigorous fact-checking process to which I submit every Bad Advice column before publication, I googled “Thinx.” 

That’s when the whole thing went south. 

Because it turns out I was wrong about this product. And by a pretty wide margin.

Thinx are not for me at all, either as a consumer or an advice columnist. 

Could I answer A.W.’s question anyway? Sure, I guess. Put me down as a qualified “yes.” Although I probably wouldn’t recommend more than a three-pack.

But really: this is not my rodeo. 

And while I don’t want to point fingers, it’s hard to avoid the conclusion that A.W. was trolling me. 

So as much as I want to tell everybody not to self-edit, and that there are no bad questions, only bad answers…when push comes to shove, there actually are bad questions. 

Please don’t ask those. Because a lot of people who read this column desperately need advice, and I am doing my best to be as unhelpful to them as possible. Let’s not ruin it for everybody else.

Thanks for reading! And please share my bad advice with others! (Maybe not this one, though. It’s kind of embarrassing.)