I remember the first time I had dinner at a friend's house. It was actually unintentional, because my parents were running late to pick me up. They called ahead and apologized profusely, but my friend's parents said it was no big deal and said I could just have dinner with them.
The reason I remember it so well was that this was before I had started to realize that I eat really quickly (fast enough to get myself sustenance 15 minutes before a show). So, a young Sam ate at the speed he normally did, without thinking anything of it. I think there were a few jokes about how I actually enjoyed the food more than anyone else did, but even these remarks went over my head. Besides, even if I had slowed down at that point, I was still going to finish before everyone else.
When I had cleared my plate, though, I looked around to see that others were still eating. What now? This was when I realized that I didn't quite know what to do at this point. If I had been at home, I could have asked to be excused from the table ... in Spanish. In fact, there's a running joke at our house about combining, "thank you, that was a good meal" with "enjoy the rest of your meal" and "may I be excused?" all into one. I'd spent most of my life saying this, and it was accepted custom at my house (the phrase was "gracias, provecho, permiso" if you're curious).
However, the folks I was having dinner with happened to be Asian. I couldn't exactly rattle off some Spanish at them, since they wouldn't understand. I also didn't think about it at the time, but that particular phrasing had slim odds of being common even in a Spanish speaking household. So, I immediately got very confused. I simply didn't have the practice with, "may I be excused?" for it to come naturally to me. In fact, I'm not sure I'd even heard the phrase before.
I think the mom must have noticed the consternation on my face, because she kind-heartedly rescued me from my predicament. She leaned over and said, "you're excused from the table." As soon as I heard it, I understood the phrase and realized that I probably had that stored deep in my memory somewhere. Regardless, I very gratefully excused myself at that point.
Now, I vividly remember this story because of the feeling of confusion and embarrassment at the end of the meal. Even so, it's not something that comes up very often. I was recently reminded of it, though.
We had some dinner company, and some of that company involved some young children (probably about 4 or 5 years old). As soon as the kid sitting nearest to me finished, he started fidgeting and trying to leave the table. He clearly wanted to go play, and I didn't blame him. However, I had to make sure he didn't just up and leave; that's not exactly polite.
So, I asked him what you're supposed to say when you leave the table. Now, he speaks English, but it's not his first language. His English is perfectly normal, but his parents speak other languages at home. Much like a young Sam in the earlier story. So, when he looked at me and honestly replied that he didn't know what to say, I knew exactly how that had come to pass.
Much like my friend's mom, I fed him his line ("you're supposed to say, 'may I be excused?'") and immediately released him. He didn't quite have the same level of consternation on his face as I had had all those years ago, but I got to experience that same episode from the adult's view point. It's funny how that happens sometimes.
I'm not going to lie; given how relieved I remember feeling during that initial episode after leaving the table, I was glad to pay it forward with another kid. Who knows? Maybe twenty years from now, this kid will end up teaching some other little kid how to excuse himself from the table.
The reason I remember it so well was that this was before I had started to realize that I eat really quickly (fast enough to get myself sustenance 15 minutes before a show). So, a young Sam ate at the speed he normally did, without thinking anything of it. I think there were a few jokes about how I actually enjoyed the food more than anyone else did, but even these remarks went over my head. Besides, even if I had slowed down at that point, I was still going to finish before everyone else.
When I had cleared my plate, though, I looked around to see that others were still eating. What now? This was when I realized that I didn't quite know what to do at this point. If I had been at home, I could have asked to be excused from the table ... in Spanish. In fact, there's a running joke at our house about combining, "thank you, that was a good meal" with "enjoy the rest of your meal" and "may I be excused?" all into one. I'd spent most of my life saying this, and it was accepted custom at my house (the phrase was "gracias, provecho, permiso" if you're curious).
However, the folks I was having dinner with happened to be Asian. I couldn't exactly rattle off some Spanish at them, since they wouldn't understand. I also didn't think about it at the time, but that particular phrasing had slim odds of being common even in a Spanish speaking household. So, I immediately got very confused. I simply didn't have the practice with, "may I be excused?" for it to come naturally to me. In fact, I'm not sure I'd even heard the phrase before.
I think the mom must have noticed the consternation on my face, because she kind-heartedly rescued me from my predicament. She leaned over and said, "you're excused from the table." As soon as I heard it, I understood the phrase and realized that I probably had that stored deep in my memory somewhere. Regardless, I very gratefully excused myself at that point.
Now, I vividly remember this story because of the feeling of confusion and embarrassment at the end of the meal. Even so, it's not something that comes up very often. I was recently reminded of it, though.
We had some dinner company, and some of that company involved some young children (probably about 4 or 5 years old). As soon as the kid sitting nearest to me finished, he started fidgeting and trying to leave the table. He clearly wanted to go play, and I didn't blame him. However, I had to make sure he didn't just up and leave; that's not exactly polite.
So, I asked him what you're supposed to say when you leave the table. Now, he speaks English, but it's not his first language. His English is perfectly normal, but his parents speak other languages at home. Much like a young Sam in the earlier story. So, when he looked at me and honestly replied that he didn't know what to say, I knew exactly how that had come to pass.
Much like my friend's mom, I fed him his line ("you're supposed to say, 'may I be excused?'") and immediately released him. He didn't quite have the same level of consternation on his face as I had had all those years ago, but I got to experience that same episode from the adult's view point. It's funny how that happens sometimes.
I'm not going to lie; given how relieved I remember feeling during that initial episode after leaving the table, I was glad to pay it forward with another kid. Who knows? Maybe twenty years from now, this kid will end up teaching some other little kid how to excuse himself from the table.
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