One thing is for certain, I must love the taste of my own feet. I am forever and constantly putting my foot in my mouth. Those who know me would understand that it’s just that I’m a giant, socially-awkward dork, but as first impressions go, it’s maybe not the best start to things.
A couple of years into my serving career, I had this table of a very nice young couple in their late teens. The young man sounded like he’d recently had his tongue pierced—which, if you’ve ever been around someone in this situation, you know they talk in a particular way.
So, trying to be friendly and chit-chat, I asked the guy, “Oh, did you just get your tongue pierced?”
They both stared at me, in silence.
Me, clueless, looking askance at them both.
His girlfriend said shortly, “No… he just talks that way.”
My eyes got really wide, I turned bright red, apologized profusely, and then spent the rest of their meal trying to show them how sorry I was and that I’d had no idea.
They left me a decent tip, so I like to think maybe no feelings were hurt?