Dear Mary: How can I stop people pitying me for being made redundant?

Mary Killen Mary Killen
 iStock
issue 28 February 2026

Q. I have just got off a nine-hour overnight flight from Miami to Heathrow. I was in premium economy in the middle of the plane, an Airbus A330, sitting in the left aisle seat of a middle row of three. Beside me was another man and on his right, also in an aisle seat, was his wife. He made several trips to the loo during the night, and each time he chose to climb over and wake me up rather than disturbing his wife and using the other aisle. I just didn’t have the nerve to start something up with him about it, but now I wish I had. How could I have dealt with it?

– R.H., London SW3

A. You might have switched to woke mode and told a member of the crew that this fellow passenger had rubbed against you inappropriately and you feel violated. The crew would have tried to find another seat for you and, with luck, if the cabin was full, you might have been upgraded to business.

Q. Through no fault of my own, I have recently been let go from a role whose salary was widely publicised and was (popularly) considered to be on the high, if not excessive, side. People who now meet me at social events tend to make me feel even worse with their excessive sympathy and pity. I would like to find a way to shut them up without giving offence.

– P.B., London W8

A. Take the wind out of their sails by butting in: ‘But have you heard the good news? I’ve had a pay-off of £X million!’ (Here you supply the highest figure plausible.) Allow a lengthy pause for their reaction, then say: ‘Only joking! We need to have a laugh, don’t we, at times like these…?’

Q. Several times a year I have lunch with a friend from university. Because he has been very successful in his business career, he almost always pays, which is just as well as he likes to patronise an expensive venue in St James’s. I always offer to pay and he almost always refuses. On occasion he does let me pay – and I always wish I’d known before I ordered, since I would not, for example, have ordered Dover sole (£75) but haddock (£32). If I could know in advance whether he is paying, I could have something nicer with confidence. I’m hoping you can think of a way to clear this up before we look at the menus.

– Name and address withheld

A. I think your tactics might become obvious if you were to make a policy of ordering expensively when he is paying and inexpensively when you discover you are. This would jeopardise your friendship. Far better to order inexpensively always and have a reputation for thoughtful moderation.

Write to Dear Mary at dearmary@spectator.co.uk

Comments