Dear Urban Diplomat: My co-workers have forgotten how to behave in an office

Dear Urban Diplomat, The new return-to-office mandates have transformed my workplace into Lord of the Flies. We’re back four days a week, and it’s every employee for themselves. Everyone fights over limited desk space. Lunches disappear from communal fridges. People take loud calls with no regard for their neighbours. I love my job, and I’m okay with the RTO mandate in theory. I just wish the office were a bit more civil. Any advice? —Cubicle Chaos, South Riverdale

If your junior peers came up during quarantine, they may not have worked in an office before. The rest are clearly out of practice. This is an issue of education, and one that should fall on management’s desk. Ask them to provide formal guidance to your teams around office etiquette. Or, if your HR department is functional in name only, wait it out and try to work in any quiet space with Wi-Fi as much as you can. You said that you love your job. The law-of-the-jungle approach to workplace organization will last only so long before the higher-ups are forced to step in.

Dear Urban Diplomat, When did the farmers’ market turn into fashion week? Lately, I’ve noticed all the young moms serving up these effortless hippie-chic looks. Meanwhile, I’m schlepping over there in sandals with socks and a hoodie stained with toddler vomit. Aren’t their lives just as consumed by work and kids as mine? My husband doesn’t get why I’m so rattled by this. Am I the problem here? —Vanity Fare, Trinity-Bellwoods

You can’t (nor should you try to) influence other people’s sartorial sensibilities, so you basically have two options: clean up your own fashion game or wear the puke with pride. Whatever you choose, know that others—especially the exhausted parents of small children—likely care less about what you’re wearing than you think.

Dear Urban Diplomat, I’ve become enmeshed in an escalating feud over a gazebo. I’m planning one last family cookout at the big pavilion at Kew Gardens before the weather gets too cold, on the only Sunday that works for everyone. I mentioned it to an acquaintance who also has a big family, and he told me that he’s also planning to host a feast: same day, same gazebo. I offered to combine the events, and he refused, which pissed me off. Should I surrender the gazebo to this jerk and tell my family to trek out to an alternate location in Scarborough, or try to arrive early and snag it before he does? —Al Fresco Fracas, Woodbine Corridor

Don’t let pride destroy your day. If you turn this into a competition and scoop the gazebo out from under him, you’re making it all about you, and you’ll have to deal with the awkward collision of two families. Instead, put yours first: pick a venue that’s less likely to be occupied. If you’re set on Kew Gardens, you could even post up at one of its covered patios by the water. Then host the best blowout imaginable.

Dear Urban Diplomat, Native English speakers can never get my name right, but I made my peace with that fact a long time ago. Here’s the problem: I have an anglophone colleague who insists on saying my name “authentically” every time I see her. It seems to raise her hackles when other people mispronounce it, and she’s forever correcting them. In my opinion, her behaviour is more offensive than theirs. How can I tactfully tell her how much I hate that performative BS? —Name Blame, Newtonbrook East

Are you sure about her motives? Maybe she’s correcting people out of genuine concern for your feelings. Or maybe you’re right and she’s grandstanding to seem culturally sensitive and morally superior. If you think it’s the former, politely tell her that you don’t mind people tripping over your name. If it’s the latter, take her aside and remind her that, as a co-worker, it’s not her place to defend your culture. Her saviour complex will shrivel when you show her how it makes you feel.