What I Thought You Said

Another sign of having lived six decades, and married nearly four of those decades, can be found in the clarity of our communications. Especially those between husband and wife. After seven hours on the road, and a long way from breakfast, we stopped at an old haunt from when I was a sales rep in Oklahoma those many years ago. Braums Ice Cream serves good fast food as well as excellent ice cream. We visited the location in Edmond, Oklahoma on our way back from visiting Eric in Austin, returning with his moving van. Our server, a nice, relatively short and middle aged lady of latin descent, presumably Mexican, waited patiently as we read the menu and hummed and hawed. 

“I guess we’re ready,” said Bonnie, not sounding very confident. “I’ll have the number seven.”

“What dressing would you like with that,” asked the server - I’ll call her Juanita - in relatively clear english.

“I’ll have the ranch,” Bonnie replied, “and do you have sweet tea?”

“Yes, we do.”

“You need to have that if you’re in Oklahoma,” Bonnie added.

Juanita waited for a moment for Bonnie to continue, perhaps for her to explain why she thought sweet tea was unique to Oklahoma, and then turned to me. “And you, sir?”

“I’ll have the garden salad, too, but with blue cheese,” I said.

Both she and Bonnie looked at me as if I’d just said something in Japanese.

Then she looked at Bonnie. “Did you want the garden salad?”

“The garden salad… no,” Bonnie exclaimed, still looking at me. “Why did you think I ordered a garden salad?”

“Didn’t you order french dressing with it,” I replied?

“French? No, I ordered ranch.”

“Well, whatever, french or ranch, but for your garden salad, right?”

“No, that was for my chicken tenders meal.” 

“Yeech, who does that. Ranch with chicken?" Turning back to Juanita, I said, "I’ll have the garden salad with blue cheese dressing."

Juanita looked at Bonnie, “Did you want blue cheese?”

“No. Ranch. Who said blue cheese,” she asked, looking at me. “You know I don’t like blue cheese.”

“And I don’t want ranch on my salad,” I explained.

Juanita looked at Bonnie, then at me. The thought bubble over her head said, “and you think english is MY second language!”

She erased her entry in the register and started over.