Maybe they will. If not, better to avoid persistent complaints and turn the matter over to Sergeant Friday. Either that, or dress your family in leotards like Beyoncé’s and start busting moves in the driveway. All the single ladies, all the single ladies.  At Starbucks, I couldn’t access the Internet on my laptop. I noticed that a fellow patron could. I wanted to ask if I could check my e-mail quickly on his computer, but my friend said that that would be grossly inappropriate. I’m a friendly person, and if someone asked me, I would have no problem — as long as they looked trustworthy. Who’s right?  You know who looked really trustworthy, Emily? Bernie Madoff, that’s who. Know who else looked great? Bonnie and Clyde, or at least they did when Faye Dunaway and Warren Beatty played them. Get the point?  We live by our laptops these days. So entrusting them and their invaluable contents to strangers, not to mention the viruses they unwittingly carry, seems unwise, especially when all kinds of places — public libraries and Internet cafes — allow short-term use of their computers for no more than just a few bucks.  Or, for one afternoon, pretend you live in Ye Olden Days, when people somehow managed to survive without minute-by-minute access to e-mail and voice mail and even text messaging. Sounds like fun, right?  I am a paid intern who sits directly in front of a permanent staff member. He spends half his day complaining in hushed tones about our boss. The perpetual whispering is annoying and creates a negative atmosphere. As an intern, my recourse is limited. Is there any way to stop him?  There’s generally a complainer in every office. And you are righter than rain: They leech the air out of the place. If it’s killing you, speak with your supervisor. (But nobody likes a whiner, remember?)  Better to learn from Mr. Mumbles’s sad example. Eventually, we all find ourselves in his boat: overworked and underappreciated, unhappy with the boss. But even if he’s right on every count, whispering down the phone isn’t going to solve anything, unless he’s on with your boss’s boss or the F.B.I.  We have to find constructive ways to disagree at the office or move along, even in a lousy economy. Because as painful as he is to listen to, it’s actually much worse being Willy the Whisperer.  When I stay at hotels, I often take the soap, shampoo and other offered amenities, even if I didn’t need them during my actual stay. Should I feel guilty for doing this?  Do you have too much time on your hands or what?  Listen, I bathe in guilt and still manage to swipe those three tablespoons of shampoo and conditioner — in their cheaply-branded plastic bottles — without a pang of regret. It’s called marketing. And if you’re like the rest of us, you end up throwing them all away in a year’s time, even though you know you should donate them to a homeless shelter.  So save your guilt for then, or better yet for when you cheat on your wife with that tramp from the hotel bar.  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 National edition with the headline: Sounding Things Out. Order Reprints| Today's Paper|Subscribe
This week, answers to readers' questions about finding the right tone to settle a loud music dispute and other issues.