I often get my friends to eat vegan food. It doesn’t cost me any weirdness points. To the contrary, my friends reciprocate with generosity. Here’s how it works. I invite my friends over to dinner. I cook them dinner, or buy take-out. I insist on paying for everything, and refuse their offers to chip in. The food is vegan because I’m the one providing it. The food is tasty because I’m a good cook, because I know what all the good restaurants are, and because I know what kinds of foods my friends like. Do my friends complain that the food is vegan? Of course not. It doesn’t even cross their mind. They’re appreciative that I’m providing them with a tasty dinner.
I don’t believe that this doesn’t cost you any weirdness points.
It would be rude to explicitly speculate on the thought processes of your actual friends, so I will use fictional analogues. Consider a hypothetical Alice who behaves as you have described, and her hypothetical friend Bob:
Alice: Bob, I’m having the usual crowd over for dinner on Friday—I hope you can make it!
Bob, thinking: Ugh, and of course it’ll be her usual vegan stuff. Damn, but I really hate vegan food. But I can’t very well say no, can I? I mean, maybe once or twice, but then what about the next time, and the time after that…? I do enjoy hanging out with everyone who’ll be there, so I guess it’s not so bad… hmm, could I convince Alice to serve meat for once…? No, what am I saying, that would be absurdly rude; she’s the host, who am I to tell her what to cook. I guess there’s nothing for it; I’ll just have a bit of this and that, and on the way home I’ll pick up a burger. Ah well, I suppose we must all tolerate one another’s quirks… Alice is a good friend, after all, and really it could be worse…
I solve this problem by telling jokes and expressing opinions so far outside the Overton Window they’d get me stoned to death by the general public. After setting the honesty baseline that high, it would be bizarre for my friends to fudge their food preferences.
On the contrary, there would be nothing at all bizarre about that; it would be perfectly normal and totally commonplace.
What you are doing by expressing opinions outside the Overton window is not, in fact, “setting the honesty baseline”—because there is no such thing as “the honesty baseline”. There is “telling politically incorrect jokes is tolerated in this social context”, and there is “telling my vegan friend that I hate vegan food and I tolerate his vegan dinner parties with gritted teeth and a forced smile would hurt his feelings to no purpose whatsoever”, and there is not all that much in common between those things.
Here’s a question, if I may: the last time one of your friends told you that they disliked something you’d cooked, how did the resulting conversation go?
(Of course you are under no obligation to answer, and demurring on privacy grounds is perfectly reasonable. Please feel free to treat the question as a rhetorical one.)
Also, maybe you have an honesty baseline for telling people you dislike their cooking, and maybe your friend understands that, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re going to match your norms.
My experience is that however painstakingly you make it clear that you want people to be honest with you or act a certain way, sometimes they just won’t. You just have to accept that people have different personalities and things they’re comfortable with, and try to love the ways they differ from you rather than resenting it.
I don’t think that’s about weirdness. Bob could have the exact same thoughts and actions if Alice provides some type of “normal” food (for whatever counts as “normal” in Bob’s culture), but Bob hates that type of food, or hates the way Alice cooks it, or hates the place Alice buys it, or whatever.
Alice and Bob are having trouble communicating, which will cause problems no matter how normal (or weird) they both are.
It certainly is about weirdness—because, for one thing, the weirder the food is, the more likely it is that many or most people will dislike it; and for another thing, if the weirdness of the food is in the form of a constraint (as “vegan” is) is, then this limits the possible scope of the food’s appeal (as compared to “food selected with no constraints and optimized for appeal”), and thus again increases the chance that the food will be disliked by any given person.
I agree that constraints make things harder, and that being vegan is a constraint, but again that is separate to weirdness. If Charles is hosting a dinner party on Friday in a “fish on Friday” culture then Charles serving meat is weird in that culture but it means Charles is less constrained, not more. If anything the desire to avoid weirdness can be a constraint. There are many more weird pizza toppings than normal pizza toppings.
Given the problem that Alice and Bob are having, a good approach is that they communicate better, so that they know there is a problem, and what it is. An approach of being less weird may cause more problems than it solves.
I don’t think that your first paragraph there makes sense as a response to what I wrote.
Given the problem that Alice and Bob are having, a good approach is that they communicate better, so that they know there is a problem, and what it is.
Perhaps. “Communicate better”, as advice, is hard to disagree with (what’s the alternative—“communicate worse”? “don’t try to improve how well you communicate”?); but (as is often the case with applause lights) what is not clear is how to apply the advice. What exactly would you suggest Bob do, in my fictional scenario?
An approach of being less weird may cause more problems than it solves.
Well, “be less weird” isn’t really an “approach”; it’s too general to be called that. Indeed, I am not even suggesting that anyone be less weird. My objection was merely to the claim that no “weirdness points” are being spent by something which seems to pretty clearly be weird. No problem can be solved if you refuse to admit that it exists; but if you see the problem clearly, you are free to decide that it’s not a problem after all. That’s a question of preferences and values, which is not my concern here.
Alice should already know what kind of foods her friends like before inviting them to a dinner party where she provides all the food. She could have gathered this information by eating with them at other events, such as restaurants, pot lucks, or at mutual friends. Or she could have learned it in general conversation. When inviting friends to a dinner party where she provides all the food, Alice should say what the menu is and ask for allergies and dietary restrictions. When people are at her dinner party, Alice should notice if someone is only picking at their food.
Bob should be honest about his food preferences instead of silently resenting the situation. In his culture it’s rude to ask Alice to serve meat. Fine, don’t do that. But it’s not rude to have food preferences and express them politely, so do that. I’m not so much saying “communicate better” as “use your words”. If Bob can’t think of any words he can ask an LLM. Claude 3.7 suggests:
“I’d love to come! I’ve been having trouble enjoying vegan food—would it be okay if I brought something to share?”
It’s a messed up situation and it mostly sounds to me like Alice and Bob are idiots. Since lsuser doesn’t appear to be an idiot, I doubt he is in this situation.
Alice should already know what kind of foods her friends like before inviting them to a dinner party where she provides all the food. She could have gathered this information by eating with them at other events, such as restaurants, pot lucks, or at mutual friends. Or she could have learned it in general conversation. When inviting friends to a dinner party where she provides all the food, Alice should say what the menu is and ask for allergies and dietary restrictions.
This is all true as far as it goes, but what it cashes out as is “don’t host a vegan dinner party for a bunch of non-vegan people”. Well, I agree with that; but is that the point you were making to begin with? If it is, then it seems like you’re basically agreeing with me, yes?
Bob should be honest about his food preferences instead of silently resenting the situation. In his culture it’s rude to ask Alice to serve meat. Fine, don’t do that. But it’s not rude to have food preferences and express them politely, so do that. I’m not so much saying “communicate better” as “use your words”.
Sure, but in the scenario we’re discussing, Alice already knows that Bob isn’t a vegan, and doesn’t prefer vegan food. She just thinks that her vegan food is so good that Bob likes it anyhow. It turns out that she’s wrong! If Bob tells her this, then what he’s saying is “you’re not as good a cook as you thought” (which is, in this hypothetical scenario, objectively true!). Will Alice’s feelings be hurt by that? Probably yes.
If Bob can’t think of any words he can ask an LLM.
I’m sorry, but I have no interest whatever in an LLM’s suggestions on this subject (nor on most other subjects).
It’s a messed up situation and it mostly sounds to me like Alice and Bob are idiots.
Well, hypothetical Alice is acting in the same way that OP describes himself as acting. Is that idiotic behavior? I suppose opinions may differ. Is hypothetical Bob’s behavior idiotic? I don’t know, it seems fairly reasonable. We’re not talking about a scenario where Bob just can’t stomach any of Alice’s food at all. Bob just wishes that Alice would cook normal food, like a normal person. It’s not really clear what the best play for Bob is. I don’t know what he could say that would both be true and tactful. Bob has decided that he’d prefer to be tactful, givens the pros and cons of the available courses of action. That doesn’t seem obviously stupid to me.
I don’t believe that this doesn’t cost you any weirdness points.
It would be rude to explicitly speculate on the thought processes of your actual friends, so I will use fictional analogues. Consider a hypothetical Alice who behaves as you have described, and her hypothetical friend Bob:
Alice: Bob, I’m having the usual crowd over for dinner on Friday—I hope you can make it!
Bob, thinking: Ugh, and of course it’ll be her usual vegan stuff. Damn, but I really hate vegan food. But I can’t very well say no, can I? I mean, maybe once or twice, but then what about the next time, and the time after that…? I do enjoy hanging out with everyone who’ll be there, so I guess it’s not so bad… hmm, could I convince Alice to serve meat for once…? No, what am I saying, that would be absurdly rude; she’s the host, who am I to tell her what to cook. I guess there’s nothing for it; I’ll just have a bit of this and that, and on the way home I’ll pick up a burger. Ah well, I suppose we must all tolerate one another’s quirks… Alice is a good friend, after all, and really it could be worse…
Bob: Wouldn’t miss it!
Alice: Great! See you on Friday!
I solve this problem by telling jokes and expressing opinions so far outside the Overton Window they’d get me stoned to death by the general public. After setting the honesty baseline that high, it would be bizarre for my friends to fudge their food preferences.
On the contrary, there would be nothing at all bizarre about that; it would be perfectly normal and totally commonplace.
What you are doing by expressing opinions outside the Overton window is not, in fact, “setting the honesty baseline”—because there is no such thing as “the honesty baseline”. There is “telling politically incorrect jokes is tolerated in this social context”, and there is “telling my vegan friend that I hate vegan food and I tolerate his vegan dinner parties with gritted teeth and a forced smile would hurt his feelings to no purpose whatsoever”, and there is not all that much in common between those things.
Here’s a question, if I may: the last time one of your friends told you that they disliked something you’d cooked, how did the resulting conversation go?
(Of course you are under no obligation to answer, and demurring on privacy grounds is perfectly reasonable. Please feel free to treat the question as a rhetorical one.)
Also, maybe you have an honesty baseline for telling people you dislike their cooking, and maybe your friend understands that, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re going to match your norms.
My experience is that however painstakingly you make it clear that you want people to be honest with you or act a certain way, sometimes they just won’t. You just have to accept that people have different personalities and things they’re comfortable with, and try to love the ways they differ from you rather than resenting it.
I don’t think that’s about weirdness. Bob could have the exact same thoughts and actions if Alice provides some type of “normal” food (for whatever counts as “normal” in Bob’s culture), but Bob hates that type of food, or hates the way Alice cooks it, or hates the place Alice buys it, or whatever.
Alice and Bob are having trouble communicating, which will cause problems no matter how normal (or weird) they both are.
It certainly is about weirdness—because, for one thing, the weirder the food is, the more likely it is that many or most people will dislike it; and for another thing, if the weirdness of the food is in the form of a constraint (as “vegan” is) is, then this limits the possible scope of the food’s appeal (as compared to “food selected with no constraints and optimized for appeal”), and thus again increases the chance that the food will be disliked by any given person.
I agree that constraints make things harder, and that being vegan is a constraint, but again that is separate to weirdness. If Charles is hosting a dinner party on Friday in a “fish on Friday” culture then Charles serving meat is weird in that culture but it means Charles is less constrained, not more. If anything the desire to avoid weirdness can be a constraint. There are many more weird pizza toppings than normal pizza toppings.
Given the problem that Alice and Bob are having, a good approach is that they communicate better, so that they know there is a problem, and what it is. An approach of being less weird may cause more problems than it solves.
I don’t think that your first paragraph there makes sense as a response to what I wrote.
Perhaps. “Communicate better”, as advice, is hard to disagree with (what’s the alternative—“communicate worse”? “don’t try to improve how well you communicate”?); but (as is often the case with applause lights) what is not clear is how to apply the advice. What exactly would you suggest Bob do, in my fictional scenario?
Well, “be less weird” isn’t really an “approach”; it’s too general to be called that. Indeed, I am not even suggesting that anyone be less weird. My objection was merely to the claim that no “weirdness points” are being spent by something which seems to pretty clearly be weird. No problem can be solved if you refuse to admit that it exists; but if you see the problem clearly, you are free to decide that it’s not a problem after all. That’s a question of preferences and values, which is not my concern here.
Alice should already know what kind of foods her friends like before inviting them to a dinner party where she provides all the food. She could have gathered this information by eating with them at other events, such as restaurants, pot lucks, or at mutual friends. Or she could have learned it in general conversation. When inviting friends to a dinner party where she provides all the food, Alice should say what the menu is and ask for allergies and dietary restrictions. When people are at her dinner party, Alice should notice if someone is only picking at their food.
Bob should be honest about his food preferences instead of silently resenting the situation. In his culture it’s rude to ask Alice to serve meat. Fine, don’t do that. But it’s not rude to have food preferences and express them politely, so do that. I’m not so much saying “communicate better” as “use your words”. If Bob can’t think of any words he can ask an LLM. Claude 3.7 suggests:
It’s a messed up situation and it mostly sounds to me like Alice and Bob are idiots. Since lsuser doesn’t appear to be an idiot, I doubt he is in this situation.
This is all true as far as it goes, but what it cashes out as is “don’t host a vegan dinner party for a bunch of non-vegan people”. Well, I agree with that; but is that the point you were making to begin with? If it is, then it seems like you’re basically agreeing with me, yes?
Sure, but in the scenario we’re discussing, Alice already knows that Bob isn’t a vegan, and doesn’t prefer vegan food. She just thinks that her vegan food is so good that Bob likes it anyhow. It turns out that she’s wrong! If Bob tells her this, then what he’s saying is “you’re not as good a cook as you thought” (which is, in this hypothetical scenario, objectively true!). Will Alice’s feelings be hurt by that? Probably yes.
I’m sorry, but I have no interest whatever in an LLM’s suggestions on this subject (nor on most other subjects).
Well, hypothetical Alice is acting in the same way that OP describes himself as acting. Is that idiotic behavior? I suppose opinions may differ. Is hypothetical Bob’s behavior idiotic? I don’t know, it seems fairly reasonable. We’re not talking about a scenario where Bob just can’t stomach any of Alice’s food at all. Bob just wishes that Alice would cook normal food, like a normal person. It’s not really clear what the best play for Bob is. I don’t know what he could say that would both be true and tactful. Bob has decided that he’d prefer to be tactful, givens the pros and cons of the available courses of action. That doesn’t seem obviously stupid to me.