I work for Planned Parenthood. I love my job and I’m proud of what I do. In social settings, when asked what I do for a living, I answer truthfully and in full. But this nearly always leads to a big rehash of the politics surrounding my employer, together with the same old talking points and statistics. I don’t like taking my work home (or out) with me. Is there a way to head off these lengthy discussions without withholding the name Planned Parenthood? Saying “I work in health care” feels like hiding to me.  If you told me you were a writer on “Crazy Ex-Girlfriend,” the musical-comedy TV series whose first 18 episodes I just inhaled in delight, I would force you to talk about it. The show is a personal hot spot. It makes me feel unbridled compassion for a character who never met a bad decision she didn’t like. That’s hard to pull off, and fun.  When personal hot spots go viral, they become cultural ones, à la Planned Parenthood. Nearly everyone has a stake and an opinion about it, as you well know. So here’s your choice. Say: “I work in health care. How about you?” and avoid a discussion about reproductive freedom. Or say, “I work at Planned Parenthood” and buckle in for a long ride.  It’s your choice. But it’s naïve to expect that you can press a hot button, then make the subject disappear because you will it to. There’s nothing cowardly in avoiding repetitive conversations with strangers. Nor is it “hiding” to say you work in health care; you do. (And while you’re at it, see if you can work in a reference to “Crazy Ex-Girlfriend.” Its ratings were terrible, and I’m afraid it may not be long for this world.)  I was host to a longtime friend at my house in the Hamptons. He visits every year, on the weekend of a certain benefit gala, to which he treats me and our girlfriends. This year, he and his date forgot to pick up their gift bags (separate ones for men and women) on their way out of the party. Later, he asked me whether I could “spare a gift bag.” Feeling under pressure, because he bought the tickets, I agreed. My girlfriend was livid with me on learning of her bag’s disappearance. May I call my friend and ask for it back?  Funny how you offered up your girlfriend’s gift bag instead of your own, no? Do not ask for its return. That would be petty. (And the hair and skin products, which are de rigueur in such bags, may be half-used by now.) Instead, make a sincere apology to your girlfriend and deliver it with a bouquet of Dutch blue hydrangeas. Next time, limit surrender of property, whether guilt-induced or otherwise, to that which is yours.  I have a close friend from graduate school who is part of a tight-knit group from her college days. She often invites me to tag along to happy hours, parties and even vacations with them. But they are cliquish and often talk about the things they do together without me. I want to stay friends with her, but I’m not sure how to approach her about her college friends’ behavior. Any advice?  How about directly? It sounds as if your friend is making a solid effort to include you in her circle of pals, but the chemistry isn’t quite right. It doesn’t surprise me that a group of friends whose bonds were all forged at the same time and place would not immediately open up to create an equal space for a newcomer. That’s not cliquish; it’s just the way things go.  If the (slow) process of breaking into the gang doesn’t appeal to you, invite your friend to dinner on her own. If she tries shuffling you back into the college pack, just say: “You all have your bright college years in common. Let’s make it a grad school party for two.” That should work. And no criticism required.  My sister-in-law is getting married soon to a man who is an emergency-room doctor. The groom-to-be recently told a relative that his new wife will not work because it would be inconvenient for him, and their marginal tax rate would be too high to make it worthwhile because he is so well paid. As a professional woman, I am appalled. May I communicate my feelings to the doctor or my sister-in-law?  Great news! You and I don’t have to marry the horrid doctor. (Nor do we get a right of approval over whom your sister-in-law marries.) Unless you are extremely close with her and suspect that her fiancé’s statement would come as a total shock, keep quiet about your feelings. They are irrelevant. For all we know, this was a joint decision, freely made. Or the doctor may be giving his wife the time she needs to write the Great American Novel.  For help with your awkward situation, send a question to SocialQ@nytimes.com or SocialQ on Facebook. You can also address your queries on Twitter to @SocialQPhilip.  Continue following our fashion and lifestyle coverage on Facebook (Styles and Modern Love), Twitter (Styles, Fashion and Weddings) and Instagram.
Working for Planned Parenthood elicits unwelcome talks with strangers. Also, worming your way into a tight-knit circle of friends — or not.