Life — May 17, 1923 — page 32: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

LIFE “Ask That Man” By Robert C. Benchley S@HIS is written for those mien who have wives who are constantly insisting on their ise asking questions of officials. (st For years I was troubled with the fol- lowirig complaint: Just as soon as we were only to the corner of the street, Doris began forcing me to ask questions of people. If we weren’t quite sure of the way: “Why don't you ask that man? He could tell you.” If there was any doubt as to the best place to go to get chocolate ice-cream, she would say: “Why don’t you ask that boy in uniform? He would be likely to know.” I can’t quite: define my aversion to asking questions of strangers. From snatches of family battles which I have heard drifting up from railway stations and street cor- ners, I gather that there are a great many men who share my dislike for it, as well as an equal number of women who, like Doris, believe it to be the solution of most of this world’s problems. The man’s dread is probably that of making himself appear a pest or ridiculously uninformed. The woman's insistence is based probably on experience which has taught her that any one, no matter who, knows more about things in general than her husband, * KK Furthermore, I never know exactly how to begin a re- quest for information, If I preface it with, “I beg your pardon!” the stranger is likely not to hear, especially if he happens to be facing in another direction, for my voice isn’t very reliable in crises and sometimes makes no in- telligible sound at all until I have been talking for fully a minute. Often I say, “I beg your pardon!” and he turns quickly and says, “What did you say?” Then I have to repeat, “I beg your pardon!” and he asks, quite naturally, “What for?” Then I am stuck. Here I am, begging a perfect stranger’s pardon, and for no apparent reason under the sun. The wonder is that I am not knocked down oftener. It was to avoid going through life under this pressure that I evolved the little scheme detailed herewith. It cost me several thousand dollars, but Doris is through with asking questions of outsiders. ex We had started on a little trip to Boston. I could have found out where the Boston train was in a few minutes had I been left to myself. But Doris never relies on the signs. Someone must be asked, too, just to make sure. Confronted once by a buck-board literally swathed in banners which screamed in red letters, “This bus goes to the State Fair Grounds,” I had to go up to the driver (who had on his cap a flag reading “To the State Fair Grounds”) and ask him if this bus surely went to the State Fair Grounds. He didn’t even answer me. So when Doris said: “Go and ask that man where the Boston train leaves from,” I gritted my teeth and decided (Continued on page 31) “And furthermore, Hector —calling the silly performance ‘hiking’ doesn’t make it one little bit less idiotic!” comicbooks.com