When we communicate with others, either in person or electronically, there are numerous opportunities for miscommunication. Sometimes it is simply a matter of a person not knowing what they want. I often have clients tell me they want to go on a fancy vacation. When I quote them a price, I am met with “WHAT???” and I am forced to explain that the Ritz-Carlton, much to their chagrin, costs more than a Holiday Inn Express. Other times miscommunication takes more humorous forms.
This weekend we were having dinner at Blackfin Bistro, which was fantastic, as always. We brought a bottle of wine with us that had been a gift and we had been meaning to try – the 2005 Glaetzer Godolphin, a Shiraz/Cabernet Sauvignon blend.
Our waiter (who I had never seen before) came over and told us the specials. He also wanted to make sure we knew about the corkage fee, and the following conversation ensued:
Waiter: You know we have a corkage fee, right?
Me: Yes. What is it? (I just could not remember, and was curious as to the amount.)
Waiter: Well, it’s a fee for opening and serving your wine.
Me: (Trying desperately to stifle fits of laughter – and failing) Um, yes, I know that, but was actually asking about the cost.
Waiter: Oh, I don’t know exactly what it is.
It reminded me of the movie Airplane! “This man needs a hospital.” “A hospital? What is it?” “It’s a big building with doctors and nurses, but that’s not important right now.”
FKGuy and I burst into uncontrollable laughter. Is there a way I could have been clearer and avoided the whole Airplane thing? I have no idea. Had I not been misunderstood it would have been significantly less funny, I can tell you that for sure.
On the other hand, there are times when there is no miscommunication
at all, and the intended message is heard loud and clear. Like today, as I was enduring day 2 of Crossfit (more on that later in the week) and as I was panting and sweating and generally being miserable, the trainer says to me “I saw the picture of your strawberry whoopie pies on Facebook.” (long pause, while I am still sweating, panting and trying to complete the exercise) “I’m pretty sure that is not on your diet. The nutritionist will have something to say about that…” I get the message. My response? “Do I have to de-friend you?” I was joking. Sort of.