The Folks Down The Street
So, I don't have a whole lot of time to myself these days. I usually reserve Wednesday nights as my only night where I sit at home, cook dinner, drink wine and reeeelax. It's a fairly standard re-grouping on the last night before I head back into a weekend of performances.
Part of this routine is hoppin on down to the local liquor store- Wines of The World- a half a block down and purchasing a bottle of Kenwood Sauvignon Blanc. Now, I have been a patron of this place at last once a week for a little over a year now and before that occasionally for two and a half years. It's basically a mom and pop store- run by a family, or so it seems. It's always the same 4 people working the store, 2 guys about my age, and older lady and a man of about her age. They are either Indian or Pakistani, though I can't speicify as to which. Anyways, they're always very nice.
Tonite, on my usual Wednesday jaunt down to the store after tennis, I find myself at the register, Kenwood SB in hand. Behind the counter is the older lady and the one of the two younger guys that I see more often in the store. Very nice, polite little exhange ensues.
Then, as I'm paying, the "mother" looks to her "son" and begins speaking in their language, which I- obviously- do not understand. I think nothing of it. They begin to giggle. Again, nothing. It's all happened before. Then, I notice the mother turns back at me and looks me right in the eyes, still giggling, almost checking to make sure that I haven't understood what was just said. At the same moment, I noticed the son is looking at me to, a smile on his face. It's a very awkward moment indeed.
Immediately, a "Seinfeld" episode flashes into my head... the one where Elaine brings George's father, a Korean War vet fluent in Korean, into her nail salon because she believes the laughs and jokes that always abound when she's in there are about her. And indeed they turn out to be.
Now, since working in the restaurant industry out here, I have on a number of occasions saught chefs who didn't know I speak pretty damned good Spanish talking either about me or someone else.
So, I wonder, do I have the stigma of the foreign store owner speaking about me in my head, or is my suspicion valid?
Should I bring a spy in with me to see if it happens again? Or should I go on about my business?
Part of this routine is hoppin on down to the local liquor store- Wines of The World- a half a block down and purchasing a bottle of Kenwood Sauvignon Blanc. Now, I have been a patron of this place at last once a week for a little over a year now and before that occasionally for two and a half years. It's basically a mom and pop store- run by a family, or so it seems. It's always the same 4 people working the store, 2 guys about my age, and older lady and a man of about her age. They are either Indian or Pakistani, though I can't speicify as to which. Anyways, they're always very nice.
Tonite, on my usual Wednesday jaunt down to the store after tennis, I find myself at the register, Kenwood SB in hand. Behind the counter is the older lady and the one of the two younger guys that I see more often in the store. Very nice, polite little exhange ensues.
Then, as I'm paying, the "mother" looks to her "son" and begins speaking in their language, which I- obviously- do not understand. I think nothing of it. They begin to giggle. Again, nothing. It's all happened before. Then, I notice the mother turns back at me and looks me right in the eyes, still giggling, almost checking to make sure that I haven't understood what was just said. At the same moment, I noticed the son is looking at me to, a smile on his face. It's a very awkward moment indeed.
Immediately, a "Seinfeld" episode flashes into my head... the one where Elaine brings George's father, a Korean War vet fluent in Korean, into her nail salon because she believes the laughs and jokes that always abound when she's in there are about her. And indeed they turn out to be.
Now, since working in the restaurant industry out here, I have on a number of occasions saught chefs who didn't know I speak pretty damned good Spanish talking either about me or someone else.
So, I wonder, do I have the stigma of the foreign store owner speaking about me in my head, or is my suspicion valid?
Should I bring a spy in with me to see if it happens again? Or should I go on about my business?