Do you make yourself cringe?
Do you have “Ragrets?”
Do you often find yourself in humiliating situations brought on by your own ignorance and lack of self-awareness?
I found myself in one of these situations just last week at a concert. I was waiting in line for my order at a food truck, two brisket sandwiches with sides of coleslaw. My husband had gone to the restroom so I struck up a conversation with the nice couple standing next to me, Jennifer and Pete. Or was it Kelly and Bob?
Having had limited experience at food trucks, I had some questions.
“How are we going to know when our order’s up?” I asked, shouting over the music.
“They’ll call out your name,” Jennifer/Kelly said.
Jennifer/Kelly seemed to know what she was talking about, and sure enough, a minute later, I heard my name.
“January!”
That’s me.
A woman walked towards me, carrying two plates of brisket sandwiches, with coleslaw on the side.
Dinner has been served.
But as she walked closer, I realized I recognized this woman.
“January, it’s Susan,” she said, smiling. Susan was my dental hygienist.
Hmm, this is weird. I didn’t know Susan was a hygienist AND a waitress? I mean, I guess she could be both. Nobody’s getting their teeth cleaned on a Saturday night.
Perhaps she owns the food truck?
Food Truck Owner! Plaque Remover! This woman can do it all!
“Nice to see you,” she said, but then she started walking away.
Slow down there, Suzy, where you going with MY brisket?
I caught up to her. “This is an awesome venue,” I said.
“Definitely,” she replied.
At this point, we had made it to my table. “Well, here I am,” I said.
Susan stopped and stared at me.
Can I have my brisket, please?
But Susan held tightly to the plastic plates.
There was a LONG pause.
“These are my sandwiches,” Susan said.
And then the dim bulb that occupied space in my teeny, tiny brain finally turned on.
Susan was NOT the food truck waitress. Like me, Susan was a fellow concert goer and brisket sandwich connoisseur.
I took a step back.
I’m sorry, Susan, I recognize this is your brisket, not mine. You were merely calling out my name to say hello, which you now, understandably, regret.
After Susan walked away, I thought, this is bad, maybe not gynecologist bad, but still, you don’t want the person scraping your teeth to harbor any ill will towards you.
Ten minutes later, my name was called and I walked to the truck. A guy passed me two plates of food through the window, because as any moron knows, food trucks don’t have waitresses.