A few days ago, I was browsing the glass counter display at a dessert shop when the friendly young woman working behind the counter asked me if I needed any help. I was having a hard time deciding what I wanted, so I asked her for a recommendation.
“If you had a choice between the chocolate frosted brownie and the chocolate almond brownie, which one would you choose?”
“The chocolate almond brownie all the way.” she said. “The chocolate frosted brownie has a cream frosting, which isn’t really my thing. I would always choose the chocolate almond. I like nuts.”
Our eyes happened to meet at that moment, and she immediately fell silent as we shared the briefest of awkward pauses. I saw the realization washing over her, and I did my coolest and casual best to pretend that I hadn’t noticed her poor choice of words.
In another instant, the disoriented look on her face gave way to the bravest attempt of a poker face I’d seen in quite some time.
“I like nuts in my desserts.” she said flatly.
I nodded, smiled politely, and ordered a chocolate almond brownie. Her posture softened slightly, as if in relief to move beyond that moment of weirdness without my having noticed her questionable phrasing.
“Nice try, sweetheart,” I thought to myself, “but this moment has been deposited, cataloged, and forever filed away in the First National Spank Bank of KZ.”
I kept that to myself, of course. I’m a gentleman, after all — not a savage.
