There was an older guy who used to hang out at the bar of the restaurant I was a hostess in right after college. He had been an actor, and his biggest role was as a homeless guy in The Fisher King. He drank a lot, and was very lonely. The bartender would only charge him a couple bucks and watered down his drinks, but otherwise let him sit at the bar all afternoon and into the evening.
He’d been drinking so much for so long, though, he had permanent appearance issues from it. One night, a new server, who hadn’t quite gotten with the program in regards to our friend, asked him, “Damn, where the hell is your nose in that mess?” The man was so shocked he just stared at the kid. The bartender got the manager, who fired that server on the spot.
The deal with speaking to people about their stuff, I learned some time ago, is thus:
Is it true?
Is it kind?
Is it necessary?
If what I’m thinking of saying doesn’t meet all the above criteria, then I had better SHUT IT. Believe me, I’m confronted with this test EVERY day.