Cold meats and Russians don’t mix

I REMEMBER hearing a story about how an older woman once went into a butcher shop in New York where the store owner was talking with a customer in Russian.

The owner saw the old woman walk in and told the customer (in Russian, of course), that he was just going to see what this “old hag” wanted and he’d be back soon.

The old lady produced a roll of banknotes from her purse and, holding it in her trembling hand and with a quivering voice, started ordering – in English – some of the most expensive cuts of cold meats, insisting that she wanted it cut by hand. She ordered quite a substantial amount of cold cuts and had the proprietor wrap them up in neat bundles insisting that she wanted the different varieties wrapped separately in plastic as well as paper.

The shop owner by this time, sweating from the exertion, but happy for the big sale, was chatty and pleasant with the old gal, and she smiled as he joked and laughed with her.

When the order was all ready, the shop owner – still flushed and panting – did his calculations and gave her the total for the order. She straightened up, stopped quivering, stuffed her notes back into her purse and in a strong, steady voice said, “I’m sorry; this ‘old hag’ lost her appetite for meat because I heard someone say something earlier that I found rude.”

And as she left the store, she called back over her shoulder, in fluent Russian, “Vy mozhete zasunut myasnoye assorti vie goryachuyu trescinu” (You can shove your cold cuts in your hot crack!)

I have to admit that I enjoy stories like this. And the reason this story came to mind is because on Monday, at one of the more upmarket supermarkets at one of our city’s malls, while waiting in the queue, I witnessed a customer, interrogating the cashier about items and prices on her receipt.

The store employee calmly and seemingly respectfully explained to the woman why certain things were the way they were on the bill. The customer was not altogether happy, but not being too fluent in English – listening to her accent, I got the impression that she was from the Far East – she frowned and proceeded to load her shopping cart.

It was then – while that customer was still there at the paypoint, loading her cart – that the young store clerk made a comment, out loud, to her colleague at the next till and to the customers who were next in line, and they all burst into laughter.

I don’t know what she said, because I only speak and understand two of our country’s official languages.

Now … chances are that what she said could have been unrelated to the ‘disagreement’ she had just had with the other customer. But I still found what she did terribly rude. After all, if what she said was innocent, harmless and unrelated, why not say it in English at the very least?

Personally, I get pretty uncomfortable when I am at a till point and the cashier and the person packing the groceries are having a conversation that I don’t understand. Being naturally paranoid, I always wonder if they are talking about me, and if so, what are they saying?

Do I have a booger sticking out of my nostril? Is my fly undone? Are there food stains on my T-shirt? I just never know.

I just feel that it’s polite to communicate in a way that includes everyone in the conversation, especially in social situations. After all, if you’re speaking a language that not everyone present understands, it could unintentionally make someone feel excluded – I have experienced this.

Surely it’s just good manners to either include everyone by speaking a common language or to explain what’s being discussed if switching languages isn’t possible.

With that in mind, business owners – including owners of some high-end shops in this country – should take this into consideration and think about helping their staff make a better impression, especially in the chatter they use around their workspaces when customers are around.