I urge you to peruse my friend Beth Teitell’s story “RSVP Rage in the Modern Age” that appeared in the Boston Globe this week. It is a must-read for anyone who throws parties or

gets invited to any ‘do that requires a simple yes or no response.

The RSVP (a French acronym for Répondez S’il Vous Plaît), an obligation to tell the invitee if you accept or regretfully decline the invitation to their event, has fallen out of fashion. Beth cites a survey by The Salonniere, a website for party throwers, that 30 percent of people who show up at soirees haven’t RSVP’d. And hosts are furious.

According to Beth’s report, online invitations get lost in our overcrowded, spam-infested  inboxes, so no one pays much attention to them. As for an actual paper RSVP — such as one for a wedding — guests grumble about the laborious task of picking up a pen, ticking off “baked scrod” or “roast beef au jus” and making a trip to the mailbox. Oh, the inhumanity of it all.

As a hostess, it is maddening when guests – people who you care about enough to invite to your party – ignore an invitation or provide you with a “maybe.” Those on-the-fence folks are just holding out for a better offer. Like what? An invitation to golf with President Obama on the Vineyard? Fine. Go. I can’t compete with the Leader of the Free World. But you’ll be bored out of your gourd.

So, yup, I have RSVP rage. And here’s why:

Parties cost money. Whether you host in your home or at a venue, there’s a big cost difference between 40 people and 60 people. At a self-catered home party, you must decide how many appetizers to make, how much liquor to buy. Restaurants or hotels charge by the head. So if you provide them a head count of 60 and only 40 people show, you are still on the hook for the 20 invitees that didn’t show. See why we rage?

“I thought you knew we were coming,” is one sentence I hope to never hear again by family member or friend because, you know, I’m not a mindreader and I’ve got to know how many crab cakes to make.

During my most recent flare-up of RSVP rage, I got a voice mail response that went something like this: “Hi, Laura. I’m RSVPing to the party. Call me back at…”

After counting to 10 and biting my lip, I rang back – and got voice mail. “Hello, X. Thank you for RSVPing. But are you coming? Not coming? Please let me know.”

Never heard back. Come to find out weeks later — through the grapevine -– the guest is attending and bringing three people not just the invited two. And I’m OK with that.

My late maternal grandmother was a big believer in “the more the merrier” celebration credo. Grammie would get a family wedding invitation and write “6” on the RSVP card instead of “1.” Because it’s the Italian way. I can’t remember ever going hungry at one of those ziti-and-chicken fests. But still…

Look, I’m no Emily Post. In fact, I’ve managed to let invitations fall through the cracks over the years, but mostly they were amongst the thousands Gayle and I received in the course of writing the Inside Track for over 20 years.

However, if we didn’t get an invitation to a party we absolutely had to attend? Oh, trust me, we ended up on the list anyway. At least the party’s hosts knew we were coming.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tags: bethteitell, bostonglobe, partyhost, rsvp, rsvprage