"That's Just Not Done!"

Right then, let's divide the sentence up. 
I take the first word, you take the second… 
OK, that's not what I meant. 

So, once more: "that" is the first word, and it means? 
Nothing concrete whatsoever. 
What exactly does "that" refer to? 
A thing, a condition, or some action of the sentence's recipient? 
No idea.

"That's just" — Aha. Now we're getting somewhere. So "that" is just. 
Righteous, even. 
Fair-minded. 
Morally upstanding. 
One might say: "that" has integrity.

I beg your pardon? We're praising "that" now?

Well, the sentence seemed to be heading that way. "That's just" — sounds almost like a character reference.

But then the remaining words land. "That's just not done.» 
Ah. So "just" wasn't a compliment after all. 
It was a qualifier. 
A softener. 
A polite little cushion placed before the verdict.

Curious. Because if "that" is just — righteous, fair, deserving — then who exactly decides it's not done? 
On what authority? 
By whose standard of justice?

"That" is just. And yet "that" is condemned.

Sounds like a wrongful conviction to me. 

Wasn't a certain Herr Knigge involved in a set of rules designed to teach people proper behaviour? 
I seem to recall. 
And in quiet anticipation, such rules do make sense in a society that aims to function as conflict-free as possible. 
Or wants to.

This Mister Knigge no doubt conceived these demands with the best of intentions and eventually published what he had written. 
What this gentleman of good conduct failed to consider, however, were the people who simply cannot follow some of those rules — not physically, not psychologically. 

That is neither protest nor refusal. 
It is simply the impossibility of doing so.

These people with barriers find public spaces — restaurants, museums, theatres, cinemas — to be their great challenge. 
Especially when they consciously experience "That just isn't done.» 
Because they do things that others seated or standing nearby find disruptive.

The public peace is disturbed? I hope not.

People with imposed barriers — with prevented possibilities — find it difficult to follow such rules. 
Or they are quite simply incapable of doing so. 

Then the lifecycle comes around the corner and demands its toll from those of us getting on in years. 
The steady walk that once came naturally has gone. 
With a walker, movement drifts into slow-motion mode. 

At dinner, things fall off the fork and land — with impressive precision — on the shirt or blouse.

That just isn't done! 

The function of expectations is disrupted.

Time and again I have witnessed scenes like these, and the critical glances that go with them. 
And just as often I have found myself irritated. 

Not at my own clumsiness, mind you, but at that judgement hanging in the air — directed at someone who simply can no longer manage things any better.

I know plenty of clumsy people in this world — myself included — but hardly any of these equally valuable human beings takes pride in behaving improperly. 
Because it isn't intention at work. It's the fading of abilities. 

Full stop.

OK, I'm calming myself down again. 

And I'd like to take a moment here and now to sing the praises of most of those around us. 
The majority of our fellow human beings are understanding. 
No glances of criticism or disapproval. 
No loud or quiet reproaches.

Understanding in a glance shows tolerance.
"That's exactly how it’s just done."