That’S Mr. Brodeur From Now On, Ok?

I read an article recently about an etiquette crisis in the American workplace.

Titled “Hell of the Dilbertvilles,” it featured tales of transgressions that included co-workers stealing lunches from refrigerators, neglecting to acknowledge colleagues in hallways, back-stabbing political assaults and even the brushing of teeth at the water cooler.

Where do employers find such Dilbertesque superstars?

Could it be that this workplace barbarism is a reflection of our own parental neglect?

As a scoutmaster of my Valley neighborhood troop, I was frequently amazed by the predilection of some boys to address me and other adults by our first names.

Even more startling was the realization that these young whippersnappers addressed their own parents and family elders with the same lack of respect.

Even the school system has neglected etiquette basic training. Though I have not yet noticed the spread of this phenomenon between pupils and teachers, it is common to hear elementary school students speaking of Andy the bus driver or Joe the janitor.

I bet many readers can identify with this example.

Don’t you love those folks at the grocery checkout who read the name on your personal check and cleverly offer you a “Have a good one, Helen.”

How dare they? And, incidentally, have a good what?

Thus, chronically impaired by this learned pathological behavior, as well as a host of others, our replacements matriculate through the halls of learning, leave their parental nests, and enter the battlefields of economic enterprise as savage warriors.

The truth be known, this affliction isn’t really very innovative. I remember my burger-flipping days in the glorious age of enlightenment of the 1970s, when we teenagers were invited to address our supervisors just so casually.

Come to think of it, the youth counselors of the local Boys Club in my hometown were known and loved as Bill and Al by young bucks of ages from 6 to 16.

Pah! I burn with disdain for this pox we have cast upon ourselves.

So, fellow Valleyites, I resurrect a watchword for our community of concerned defenders of civility to adopt:

Leadership.

I propose a remedy that we can administer by way of the “avalanche protocol.” Let the pebble of leadership begin with my humble voice in this column. You, my amenable partisans, will, in union with me, amplify the force of noble character.

The seed which I conceive will grow into a mighty paragon of hope and enlightenment for the children and, hence, the workplaces of ages to follow.

I entreat you to be co-bearers of the flame, to reignite the torch that illuminates the ancient standards of civility and refinement. Re-establish your embrace of the values of courtesy, decency and civility, and defend the principles upon which they are founded.

Be Mr. Jones, Mrs. Smith and Ms. Johnson.

Model these modicums of urbane and respectful comportment to your children, your neighbors’ children, your pupils, scouts and junior athletes.

Mothers and fathers, uncles and aunts, resume your esteemed titles of honor. You are parents, not locker room chums. Indeed, you are our children’s nearest genealogical link with their celestial and most holy origin, the creator and Father of us all.

Do not cravenly shrink from the fight.

My many years as a father, soccer coach and scoutmaster have taught me that victory requires persistence and perseverance.

Let the Spokane Valley be the beacon of leadership that spreads to our city neighbors, transcends the mountains, and reaches America’s very shores.

We, the peaceful citizens of Spokane Valley, can be the civilized heralds of the new millennium.

What a marvelous antithesis our community could offer to the “Hell of the Dilbertvilles.”