COLUMN: It would be nice sometimes if the cat did have my tongue
I walked in the kitchen doors at work last week to see a new waiter carrying around plates of hamburgers, steak and chicken.
He immediately looked like someone I had met before. Where was he from? High school? A recent class? Was he the creepy neighbor I had a couple years ago that I only saw twice because he played Halo 24 hours a day?
No, he was none of these people.
When I told him he looked familiar he gave me a disgusted look and told me he had worked at the restaurant for a year. My face turned red and it suddenly came back to me. All the times he had handed me sides of ranch and mayo and most importantly, my tables’ entrees. He had been a cook. The only thing different about him this night was he was wearing a different shirt.
Awkward.
How do you recover from a situation like that? It was almost as bad as the time I accidentally hugged the Logan Police Sergeant. Something like that you just can’t take back.
About five months ago I went to the dance show “Thriller” in the Kent Concert Hall. It was Halloween night so some people decided to dress up, including the man behind me who wore nothing but red tights and a cape. I think he was Nacho Libre. This costume not only exposed to the world his sense of humor, but also his rather large stomach that he was obviously not embarrassed about.
Turning to my friend, I thought I was really sneaky as I told her to check out the guy’s bare, blubbery belly behind us. As she began to look in both directions, Nacho Libre spoke up and told her I was talking about him.
I had to sit for another two hours in front of that man and had to walk right in front of him when we were leaving the concert hall. It was like the nightmare that wouldn’t end.
In fact, that memory reminds me of the time in fifth grade when my teacher sat on one of the desks and it broke for obvious reasons. She was too big to be sitting on a desk so small. When all of us 11-year-olds were laughing about it in the hall at recess, she just happened to walk by and say, “Yes, big, fat Mrs. Stephens broke the desk.” We all felt really stupid after that.
So where are all these stories going? Well, what I want to say is we should all be more careful when we open our mouths. Once something is said, it’s said for good.
I’ve recently decided that there are times when we should not say or do anything (such as uh, hugging) to people we don’t know. Except, I did know the disguised cook. And Mrs. Stephens. But that is beside the point. Maybe it is just best if we adopt Thumper’s theory, “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say nothing at all.”
Then we won’t end up embarrassing ourselves – or the people we are talking about for that matter. Because I’m telling you, there is no way to recover. There is no way to take it back. You end up just telling people how you have humiliated yourself once again, and sadly, too many times, those people that get offended don’t forget.
I would also like to give a few extra words of advice. First of all, you don’t need to tell people they look familiar because they probably are. And if you’re the one who doesn’t remember them, then it just seems rude.
Second, unless you’re related to them, there is probably never a need to hug someone involved in law enforcement. Most likely, if they hold their arm out, they are opening the door for you, not trying to embrace you.
Third, if someone is dressed up like Nacho Libre, he obviously knows his stomach is hanging out and probably doesn’t care that everybody else knows too.
Lastly, fifth grade teachers will always seem like giants to their 11-year-old students. And giants break things sometimes. That’s all there is to it.
So there you go. Let’s all move on.
Manette Newbold is a senior majoring in print journalism. Comments you can’t take back can be sent to
mnewbold@cc.usu.edu.