Awkward moments caused entirely due to that British politeness embarrassment thing

[Piglet208]

I was recently having a meal in a hotel in France with Dh. After the main course, the lovely waiter ( he looked like Manuel from Fawlty towers) came over with the menu and said something in French about dessert. I speak some French but didn't catch the whole sentence so I nodded and went to take the menu. He pulled the menu away, smiled and said something else which I didn't catch. We assumed that he thought we didn't want dessert and decided to leave it as the restaurant was extremely busy. Suddenly Manuel triumphantly appeared with two desserts and handed a creme brûlée to Dh and a chocolate tart to me. Now obviously we should have got his attention and explained we hadn't ordered dessert but my embarrassment at having to try to explain in French and to be honest the fact that the desserts looked lovely led to Dh suggesting we just eat them. As we started to eat Dh noticed that the group of waiters were having a serious discussion and looking over worriedly at us. Manuel was beginning to sweat and it was obvious that we had someone else's dessert. So the whole time we continued to eat the desserts ( they were lovely) the entire restaurant staff were heatedly gesticulating and glaring while Manuel got more and more sheepish. After a while identical desserts were brought out to a table close by and eventually Manuel shuffled over to our table and asked Dh to sign for the desserts, avoiding any eye contact or mention of the mistake, which he obviously did much to Manuel's relief. I can't help thinking that Manuel must think we were slightly strange to accept 2 rogue desserts and eat them without saying anything!

I once wrote a message in a colleague's leaving card, she was a friend and so I really was going to miss her. So the message was quite long and referred to lots of in jokes. Then at the end someone asked me if I had 'another colleague's' leaving card - I had written the message in the wrong card. I simply changed the name from Debbie to Robbie (names have been changed to protect the innocent) changing not only the name but the sex of the person writing the message. Somebody would have some explaining to do to her partner about her late walks home and drinking sessions with Robbie!

I have been going swimming at the local pool in the morning for FFITEEN YEARS. There's a group of older women who also go. When I first started, they asked me my name and misheard it as "Thelma" (My name is not Thelma, nor does it sound anything like it).I was too embarrassed to correct them.

Now I have to suffer the indiginity of being addressed by Thelma. And also making up lies about why my parents chose such an "unusual name".

A few years ago my sister came to stay and decided to come swimming with me. I had to tell her that they were all going to call me Thelma and she just had to go with it.

Oh, recently we went as a family for a meal. As there were a few of us, we were asked to pre-order. Fine. Some had starters, all had mains and some had puds.

Waitress brought my Dads over to him. He started eating. Waiter then presented my Dad with a meal. They'd served him someone elses. They then proceeded to give my Dad's mum's meal to someone on another table.

Rather than kick up a fuss, my Dad offered to pay for the most expensive of his 2 meals...! Rather than telling them it was their mistake

Got loads of tales like that as we live abroad in a French speaking place.

The best are my parents. They've travelled all over the world. Usually confident etc.

Bit when they come to visit me and someone says 'Hello. Welcome to the lavender farm!' (or whichever tourist hell hole we happen to be visiting that day) in French with a smile they are rendered totally mute and incapable of any speech.

They just gawp and look to me to respond 'OK, thanks'. This happens for the entire time they visit and they have not improved. I've lived abroad for almost ten years!

Just say hello, ffs! In French, English or frigging Spanish, no one gives a shit really.

And don't even get me started on British indecisiveness or martyrdom. Painful. Utterly painful.

That's a whole other thread!

I've written about this before on here.

Ages ago I used the word "partner" to describe my then-BF to my (gay) hairdresser, who then assumed that I was a lesbian and that my partner was a woman. Because he's gay, I felt too embarrassed to admit that my partner is a bloke.

Three years have passed since then and despite only going in there every 4 months or so, my being a lesbian is the only thing the hairdresser remembers about me, and I now feel like I'm in too deep to admit that I'm actually straight. So I've had to describe my lesbian wedding (complete with answering his questions about how my parents feel about my sexuality), holidays in Crete ("very gay-friendly") and so on. I've only switched hairdressers now because I'm 37 weeks pregnant and I don't have it in me to research and discuss conception options for same-sex couples.

I'm not even British, I've no idea why I've done this to myself.

RainyDayBear - I did the exact same thing and in my panic said my little girl was called Dennis...

About 30 years ago I was standing on a bus stop on a dark and rainy winter morning with a few other people. A car beeped and pulled up a little further along. Everyone (I felt) looked at me expectantly so I assumed it must be somebody who knew me offering a lift. I ran to the car and got in! Me and the old man driving looked at each other in shock as obviously we didn't know each other. He then said in a shaky voice "where are you going" and I said "Town please". He kindly drove me all the way to my work (I think he was terrified), he mentioned his wife every 2 minutes and we made very British small talk without mentioning our strange predicament! I'm sure we have both dined out on this story ever since!

Essential That's fantastic.

ROFL at Dennis Octopus A lovely little girl called Dennis

Ive just been reminded of a restaurant story. We were out for FILS birthday. They put his meal in front of him and he started cutting up the meat. Couple of minutes later the waitress came back and said 'so sorry that plate wasn't for you'. She picked it up, and then gave it to a woman on the next table, with the meAt all cut up. Woman looked a bit awkward but didn't say anything to the waitress and just started eating it.

Obviously when they came to ask if we were happy with the meals, both tables said 'yes, lovely thanks'.

I was talking to my new boss at my first social event with my new job. My boss was chatting to me and my colleague very pleasantly and obviously trying to make me feel comfortable but I didn't catch something that he said. He repeated it but I still didn't catch it so he repeated it again. I still didn't hear him properly but was too embarrassed to ask him to say it for a forth time so I threw my head back and laughed heartily at his comment. Fuck knows why because he looked very confused and a bit scared so excused himself. My colleague had a face like this > and informed me that my boss has just explained to me that he had been off for a few days to organise his mother's funeral.

When I was young and carefree my meal times were erratic to suit my whim. This one time I came home after work and ate a large bowl of all bran (I know, I'm mental).

Anyway I was just tidying up when the buzzer went and I heard giggling coming up the shared stairs. It was my best friend who lived in another city, surprising me with a visit!

She had one hand behind her back and she gleefully asked me '"Who's your best friend! Who's your best friend!' All the while a suspicious fragrance emanated.

Anyway surprise surprise she had turned up with my favourite! Chinese takeaway! Yaaaay!

Or bleurgh, depending on your just having filled up on carbohydrate five minutes hence.

I'm British and a stalwart friend, I ate the lot and feigned so much gratitude and enthusiasm that by the end I even convinced myself.

I've had to pretend to be Irish at my son's school for a year now. From Cork. Long story.

I've had to pretend to be Irish at my son's school for a year now. From Cork. Long story.

@spinassiene - spill!

You've just reminded me that I had to pretend I was from Liverpool once but only for a night. I met a really nice fella who wanted to see me the next night but I had to say no, lest he find out I was a lying twat with a fake accent.

My mum told me one once which made me laugh.

She was at the seaside when a she was about 16, and in her bathing costume. She and her friend picked up their bags to move further along the beach, when a young man tapped her on the shoulder and said 'Excuse me, you dropped this from your bag!'. She glanced down and clocked that 'this' was her knickers, went into total panic mode and denied it completely. The young guy said 'I just saw it fall out of your bag' and she continued denying it. He hadn't clocked what it was he was holding and could not understand her refusal to accept what he had seen with his own eyes. She turned in the end and walked away with as much dignity as she could muster and had to take the train home later knickerless

Mine was in a restaurant in Germany where I was very happy to see 'Lamb with mint sauce' on the menu. You rarely find lamb here, and mint sauce is unheard of. I ordered it and was aghast to be served with lamb covered in melted minty chocolate. It was like the chef had covered a lamb steak in After Eight and then blasted it in the microwave.

I spent the meal scraping off the vile sauce, tears of mirth running down my face, cracking jokes with dh about minty Aeros etc. When the waiter returned he anxiously asked me if the dish was ok as the chef wanted to branch out and he had realised I am British and would value my opinion, and was it authentic? 'Mmmm delicious'.

The After Eight Lamb sounds great. Can't be any worse then the ham in coke.

DH and I were on the train once, we were in the window seats at a table for 4. A lady got on an sat next to DH and then fell asleep.
About ten minutes from our stop we started panicking about having to wake her up for DH to get up and off the train.
We even discussed me getting off and DH staying on the train and me driving to fetch him from one of the stations further up the line.

Fortunately the announcement thingy woke her up and she got off at the same station as us. Phew.

"About ten minutes from our stop we started panicking about having to wake her up for DH to get up and off the train.
We even discussed me getting off and DH staying on the train and me driving to fetch him from one of the stations further up the line."

That's hillarious. I'm Northern Irish, and we don't generally have this problem (the upper middle class, with more English sensibilities, maybe). Is this why more tourists are choosing to come here? They'be heard we aren't awkward like you lot

Many times I've ordered an obscene amount of takeaway food when home alone. I don't want the drivers to judge me so as I open the door I always shout "food's here!" or something similar to the imaginary person upstairs.

Would you have elbowed her in the ribs Wicked?

@NetMumsBastards you're right - if she was properly English she'd have had me round once a week just to avoid the conversation!

I enjoyed the book too - but read it a while ago so it's mainly Katsu that sticks in my mind. I would love a clockwork octopus.

In the early days of living with my now DH, I had a terrible bout of gastro. One evening in the recovery period I had been sitting in the far corner of the sitting room, OH was in the study. I did an absolutely rancid fart. As is always the way, he appeared soon after (I had moved away from the corner) and exclaimed at the dead animal smell. Naturally I feigned ignorance. But all that evening I was afflicted by terribly foul flatulence. Whenever he wasn't in the sitting room, I returned to the same corner to fart and continued to appear confused about the random stench.

We lived in that flat for another 18 months. Every time I needed to fart, I snuck into that corner. It was no longer a matter of embarrassment... habit, amusement, I don't know what! More than 10 years later, my DH sporadically mentions the flat with the foul smelling corner. He thinks it was some kind of haunting

A very rural Romanian hotel.
I ended up with chips and raw grated cabbage for supper with a carafe of red wine the colour and taste of sweet Vimto.

My parents are immigrants with excellent English and impeccable manners (the manners of their home country!). They worked for different companies, in different client-facing roles, and both of them have been told by their employers that their non-Britishness was an asset to the company because they never got caught by any British awkwardness!

Me, though, I can relate to quite a lot of these stories, especially the workmen in the loo and acquaintances in the supermarket.

Yesterday I went to the pound shop and bought £10 worth of multi-pack chocolate bars.

They are much cheaper there than in Tesco so I stock up from time to time.

I didn't want the woman behind the till to know they were all for me so I made a big show of asking for the receipt and tucking it away very carefully in my purse to look like I'd be claiming it back

I'm fascinated by these -- so many seem to centre around food and going to the loo (only with no loo around in many... )

Can I ask another question -- given that a lot of these centre around other people's misunderstandings (misheard names/sexualities/nationalities/number and sex of children/food orders), what is so taboo about correcting them? It's not your fault. Or is it that you would be so utterly horrified to discover you had accidentally served someone testicles/thought they were a lesbian/called them Thelma or by their surname for months, that you are trying to save them from feeling as terrible as you would feel?

But if the boot was on the other foot, wouldn't you be horrified you had made someone invent imaginary children or a fictional lesbian wedding or go and shop somewhere else for weeks? Wouldn't you prefer to have your mistake pointed out so that the other person wasn't put out?