Embarrassing moments
Ever been so embarrassed that you wanted the earth to swallow you up?
Embarrassment is forever! As children, when we get caught raiding the biscuit tin, as teenagers smoking our first cigarette in secret behind the bicycle sheds at school, as grown-ups when we try really hard to make a good impression by saying just the right thing, only to make a fool of ourselves – pure embarrassment. You wish you had never opened your mouth. You want to un-say those awful words. Hiding under the sofa or heading for the emergency exit suddenly become tempting alternatives to facing the music and apologizing.
When I first began to live in Germany, then Austria, I suffered many embarrassing moments. Years later, one experience still pains me: an afternoon invitation to coffee. On arrival, I gave the flowers, still wrapped, to my hostess. My first mistake: Germans remove the paper beforehand, screwing it up into a tiny ball. What they then do with the soggy object remains a mystery to me! My second faux-pas: on seeing the empty drawing room, I assumed that I was the first guest. I had come, as we do in Britain, about ten minutes after the invitation time. Imagine my embarrassment when my hostess led me into the dining room, where a tableful of ladies sat sipping coffee, forking up cake. This was my very first German coffee party. I felt dreadful.
Some people use embarrassment deliberately, to put someone on the back foot. One summer, I was asked to a barbeque near Kitzbühel. “Oh it’s quite informal, just us, in the garden. Don’t forget to bring a pullover as it gets cool in the evenings up here in the mountains.” While I made my entrance in old jeans, sneakers, a Cambridge University sweatshirt (from my alma mater) slung casually over my shoulders, the other guests wore dressy silk dirndls and dinner jackets. Did my hostess play down the dress code intentionally? I shall never know as I didn’t stay to find out.
We are lucky. In English we simply say “you” when we address anyone (male or female), but German is a minefield: do I say “du” or “Sie”? Not to mention the Bavarian “du” which complicates matters no end. Thanks to my background in international public relations, working in four languages, I am very sensitive to these nuances. I do try hard to get it right. Yet to my ears I sound either too distant using “Sie” or too familiar with “du”. The first time I attended a dinner party hosted by members of the aristocracy, I used the polite form of address, of course, only to hear the guests not only use “du” amongst themselves, but also with me. I was at a loss, mumbling, as the evening progressed, a mix of “du” and “Sie”, hoping not to offend anybody. One notable aristocrat, His Royal Highness The Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, never gets embarrassed himself but is a past master at embarrassing others. In Rome, on being offered a wide selection of fine wines by the Italian Prime Minister, he said: “Get me a beer. I don’t care what kind it is, but get me a beer.” Collections of his bon-mots sell like hot cakes and he is often quoted. The Duke rarely meets his match. But it does happen. “And what exotic part of the world do you come from?”, he asked Conservative politician Lord Taylor of Warwick, whose parents are Jamaican. “Birmingham” , replied Lord Taylor with a polite smile. The Prince was not amused. Touché.
As we aren’t thick-skinned princes, as we get embarrassed by our gaffes, we can only take a deep breath, smile, hoping that nobody else saw what a fool one has been. And most often nobody has noticed, as most folk are too preoccupied with themselves to be aware of our blunders.