It's fish. Deal with it.
Staying within the realm of recent entries, I have a story about lying at work. Oh yes, it happens, just rarely am I the one actually doing it.
I hate lying and I suck at it. Ask me a direct question, and I feel compelled to answer truthfully. I've been working on that in recent years though, because sometimes the whole truth doesn't exactly work to your advantage. Like, say, when the guy you're in love with asks "how many?" Take it from me: No matter how many - LIE! Or even better, get mad at him for asking before he gets mad at you for answering. There is no correct answer to that question. It's the equivalent of the female "does this make me look fat?"
Well, imagine my surprise when I stood there with my most honest facial expression and lied my lily white ass off in front of 2 couples not long ago. I shocked the hell out of myself. Not to mention all of my colleagues AND my boss when I recounted the episode afterwards. But let me backtrack a little and explain why that doesn't in any way make me less of a person, or a terribly bad waiter either.
I'd already made a pretty bad impression on these people who had been ignored for a total of maybe 10 minutes and in the end resorted to getting up to fetch a waiter (me) in order to get some drinks on the table. I had quite a bit of flirting to do if I was to have any hopes of a tip. Anyway, everything was fine until I came to fetch their starter plates. That's when the questions began...
Guests: "Are you sure this is salmon?
Me: "Yes, smoked salmon, like the menu says."
G: "Are you sure? It tastes a little off."
Me: "Off how?"
G: "Well, it has sort of an earthy aftertaste. Either it's gone bad, or this is smoked trout. It could be trout. You sure it's not trout?"
(See what they did here? Doesn't exactly leave me much of a choice, does it?)
Me: "Well, if it tastes like trout it just might be. Let me go check with the kitchen. I wouldn't be surprised if they tried to fly that under the radar..."
So I went back to the kitchen and went about my business fetching whatever I needed for other tables. Of course I didn't ask them if it was trout, because of course it wasn't. I see the packages of SALMON coming through that kitchen every day. If it's trout then there's some conspiracy at the fish market. Also, here's a little hint for all you epicureans out there: Smoked trout and smoked salmon taste EXACTLY THE SAME. Experienced chefs have difficulty telling the two apart. Then I went back to their table and lied straight to their faces:
Me: "Wow, you guys have excellent tastebuds! I'll hand that to you. The chef confessed that they'd gotten a wrong delivery and didn't think anyone would be able to tell the difference. I'm really sorry about that. Can I get you another starter?"
G: "Oh no, that's ok. Gotta leave room for the entrèe. You're not just pulling our leg now because we said the salmon was off, are you?"
Me: No no, I saw the package out there. Those rascals really tried to pull one on us. *charicature fist and pirate face for empasis - they laugh* Again, I'm really sorry about that. I'll make sure the coffee is on the house.
All was forgiven. Or at least, so I thought until the girl picking up their payment was somewhat mystified by a trout comment and mentioned it while we scarfed down our dinners. "Oh yeah, about that..." I recounted the story without looking up from my food only to be faced with about 8 people staring at me slack-jawed when I finished. I have to confess, I was a little high from fibbing to such a degree, and getting that reaction from everyone around the table didn't exactly make me feel worse about how I'd played it.
Thing is - and this is where I turn into a snob - if you want to play the gourmet card and comment on the food like a pro,
1) don't order the house wine, and
2) don't drink red with your fish.
I might've taken them a bit more seriously if they hadn't been totally fine with guzzling that crap. And for you worry warts out there, I can assure you the salmon was in no way off. It's not like these people went home with stomach aches. They were imagining things. Or they were trying to assert themselves in some misguided way. Either way, nobody got hurt.
I realize that in the scope of things, this is the tinyest, most pointless story in the universe. But for me, it was a glimpse of the person I'm turning into, and therefore a big friggin' deal. I don't want to be the one who lies. But I have no qualms aspiring to be *really good at it* on those occasions when it seems like the best course of action. It's not a very admirable skill, but it is a hell of a practical one. And I am nothing if not pragmatic.
I hate lying and I suck at it. Ask me a direct question, and I feel compelled to answer truthfully. I've been working on that in recent years though, because sometimes the whole truth doesn't exactly work to your advantage. Like, say, when the guy you're in love with asks "how many?" Take it from me: No matter how many - LIE! Or even better, get mad at him for asking before he gets mad at you for answering. There is no correct answer to that question. It's the equivalent of the female "does this make me look fat?"
Well, imagine my surprise when I stood there with my most honest facial expression and lied my lily white ass off in front of 2 couples not long ago. I shocked the hell out of myself. Not to mention all of my colleagues AND my boss when I recounted the episode afterwards. But let me backtrack a little and explain why that doesn't in any way make me less of a person, or a terribly bad waiter either.
I'd already made a pretty bad impression on these people who had been ignored for a total of maybe 10 minutes and in the end resorted to getting up to fetch a waiter (me) in order to get some drinks on the table. I had quite a bit of flirting to do if I was to have any hopes of a tip. Anyway, everything was fine until I came to fetch their starter plates. That's when the questions began...
Guests: "Are you sure this is salmon?
Me: "Yes, smoked salmon, like the menu says."
G: "Are you sure? It tastes a little off."
Me: "Off how?"
G: "Well, it has sort of an earthy aftertaste. Either it's gone bad, or this is smoked trout. It could be trout. You sure it's not trout?"
(See what they did here? Doesn't exactly leave me much of a choice, does it?)
Me: "Well, if it tastes like trout it just might be. Let me go check with the kitchen. I wouldn't be surprised if they tried to fly that under the radar..."
So I went back to the kitchen and went about my business fetching whatever I needed for other tables. Of course I didn't ask them if it was trout, because of course it wasn't. I see the packages of SALMON coming through that kitchen every day. If it's trout then there's some conspiracy at the fish market. Also, here's a little hint for all you epicureans out there: Smoked trout and smoked salmon taste EXACTLY THE SAME. Experienced chefs have difficulty telling the two apart. Then I went back to their table and lied straight to their faces:
Me: "Wow, you guys have excellent tastebuds! I'll hand that to you. The chef confessed that they'd gotten a wrong delivery and didn't think anyone would be able to tell the difference. I'm really sorry about that. Can I get you another starter?"
G: "Oh no, that's ok. Gotta leave room for the entrèe. You're not just pulling our leg now because we said the salmon was off, are you?"
Me: No no, I saw the package out there. Those rascals really tried to pull one on us. *charicature fist and pirate face for empasis - they laugh* Again, I'm really sorry about that. I'll make sure the coffee is on the house.
All was forgiven. Or at least, so I thought until the girl picking up their payment was somewhat mystified by a trout comment and mentioned it while we scarfed down our dinners. "Oh yeah, about that..." I recounted the story without looking up from my food only to be faced with about 8 people staring at me slack-jawed when I finished. I have to confess, I was a little high from fibbing to such a degree, and getting that reaction from everyone around the table didn't exactly make me feel worse about how I'd played it.
Thing is - and this is where I turn into a snob - if you want to play the gourmet card and comment on the food like a pro,
1) don't order the house wine, and
2) don't drink red with your fish.
I might've taken them a bit more seriously if they hadn't been totally fine with guzzling that crap. And for you worry warts out there, I can assure you the salmon was in no way off. It's not like these people went home with stomach aches. They were imagining things. Or they were trying to assert themselves in some misguided way. Either way, nobody got hurt.
I realize that in the scope of things, this is the tinyest, most pointless story in the universe. But for me, it was a glimpse of the person I'm turning into, and therefore a big friggin' deal. I don't want to be the one who lies. But I have no qualms aspiring to be *really good at it* on those occasions when it seems like the best course of action. It's not a very admirable skill, but it is a hell of a practical one. And I am nothing if not pragmatic.