That way, everyone is treated fairly: Your husband’s work is recognized as inherently valuable, and your relatives are given preferential treatment — but not allowed to nail-gun your husband to the wall.  A couple came over for a barbecue and brought a bottle of wine, for which we thanked them. When we sat to eat, my husband poured a different bottle of wine. During the meal, the wife noticed a small insect in her wine glass (twice!) and tossed the contents onto the grass. I wondered if she was subconsciously punishing us for not serving the wine they brought. Were we rude not to serve it?  If by “rude,” you mean, “generously inviting people to your home for a free dinner” — then, yes, you were incredibly rude.  The wine was a host and hostess gift, and not necessarily for immediate consumption. The same goes for boxes of chocolate and even those dreaded scented candles (which tend to taste a little waxy). They’re tokens of appreciation, not side dishes.  You’ll have to consult more expensive help than I to understand your friend’s subconscious mind. But it would take a real lover of chardonnay — or at least a mega-fan of Jeff Goldblum in “The Fly” — to swill down a glass of vino that’s laced with flying bugs, no?  That Rug on His Chest  A guy I work with — totally nice and , hard-working — has a habit of keeping his shirt unbuttoned down to, um, there. His ample chest fluff is usually the first thing that greets anyone who sees him at any point during the day. How can I get him to button up?Anonymous  Listen, if lush manscapes worked for Tom Jones 40 years ago, and Tom Selleck through most of the ’80s, and even Tom Ford on the cover of Vanity Fair, who are we to tell the Hairy Larrys of the office pod how to tend their gardens?  Still, in workplaces it’s generally better not to distract our colleagues from the business at hand. And shirts unbuttoned to the navel, whether on men or women (of the smooth or hirsute variety), do precisely that.  So, level with your low-cut colleague. Tell him, with a smile: “I think you may have missed a button — or three.” If he takes the bait, problem solved. If not, I know someone who’s getting a collection of dickeys from his Secret Santa this year.  A close friend and colleague lent me a copy of her favorite book, which I have no interest in. In fact, I’ve studiously avoided it. I would like to return it to her unread, but without seeming snobby. Is there a polite way to do this? Gabrielle, New York  Since when is reading a book a prerequisite for acting like you had read it? If that were the case, half my pals wouldn’t have graduated from college. So what’s your excuse?  Still, the fervent recommendation of a close friend should carry more weight than your preconceptions. Try a few pages, unless we’re talking about Jackie Collins or the frighteningly prolific Malcolm Gladwell (in which case, enough said).  And if you can’t bear to continue, return it with an inscrutable: “It was everything I expected — and even more so.”  For help with an awkward social situation, send queries to socialq@nytimes.com or Social Q’s, The New York Times Style Department, 620 Eighth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10018. Please include a daytime telephone number.  A version of this article appears in print on , on Page ST8 of the New York edition with the headline: No More Freebies, Uncle Bob. Order Reprints| Today's Paper|Subscribe
This week, answers to readers' questions about working for relatives for free, dealing with a co-worker who shows too much chest hair and other issues.