I recently came to a surprising realization about myself: I might have been giving compliments all wrong.
This revelation unfolded during a trip to New Orleans, a city I had eagerly anticipated exploring. Known for its vibrant music scene, delectable cuisine, and generous libations, I was particularly excited about experiencing the food. Our first dinner was at the renowned Commander’s Palace, a restaurant famed for its culinary excellence.
Commander’s Palace did not disappoint. Although dining there is a splurge, the exceptional food and service make it worth every penny. Our team of servers, including a woman and two men, were nothing short of spectacular—attentive, friendly, and knowledgeable.
Our waitress encouraged us to try the turtle soup, claiming it was a must-have. I was pleasantly surprised; instead of the creamy chowder I expected, I was served a rich, reddish-burgundy broth that was simply phenomenal, complemented by a hint of sherry. Following that, I indulged in a pan-seared redfish that was nothing short of extraordinary. Everything was perfect.
Then came the moment that sparked my epiphany. When our waitress asked how we were enjoying the meal, I responded with a lackluster, “Just fine.” This prompted immediate concern from our waitress, who seemed to think my response fell severely short of the restaurant’s standards. To her, “just fine” was a lukewarm endorsement—far from the rave review she expected.
In my mind, “fine” had always carried a positive connotation. Yet, as my wife pointed out, this is a classic case of my tendency to underplay praise. For example, when a friend shares some good news, my reaction often leans toward, “That’s pretty good!” instead of expressing genuine enthusiasm.
This amusing miscommunication followed us throughout the weekend. I made a conscious effort to reframe my compliments, starting with “just fine” and then layering on the genuine accolades. “How was your gumbo?” I’d begin with, “Oh, just fine,” only to follow up with, “In fact, it was the best gumbo I’ve ever had!” However, this tactic had its pitfalls, as one server mistook my humor for sarcasm.
Perhaps this tendency of mine has roots in my upbringing. There’s a certain cultural fatalism that suggests that the good is always tainted by the bad. This mindset might explain my propensity for understatement. Regardless, I’m left reflecting on how many times I’ve unintentionally downplayed my true feelings.
So, to those who have crossed my path, I owe a few clarifications and apologies:
- To Jamie Carter, the CEO of a thriving startup: I genuinely enjoy my role here and did not mean to imply otherwise when I called it “one of the better jobs” I’ve had.
- To Alex Morgan, my co-editor: Your piece about that awkward encounter at the café was more than “kind of funny”; it was absolutely hilarious and had me in stitches.
- To the bullies from my school days: I won’t merely chase you; I’ll find a way to rewrite the laws of nature to do so.
- To the makers of my Jeep: It’s not just “pretty good”; it’s truly exceptional, despite the occasional hiccup.
- To the aspiring writer we spoke with recently: I apologize for calling your work “actually quite good” when it’s clearly brilliant.
- And to the lovely weather we enjoyed in New Orleans: “Nice” doesn’t do justice to the perfectly sunny and mild temperatures that provided us with a refreshing break from the Northeast chill.
As I reflect on this experience, I realize that the art of complimenting is more complex than it appears. If you’re interested in parenting advice, you might find this post on Modern Family Blog insightful. Also, if you’re exploring options for home insemination, check out this at-home insemination kit from a reputable online retailer. For further information on pregnancy and home insemination, consider visiting this Wikipedia link.
In summary, I’ve learned that how we express appreciation matters. Moving forward, I aim to be more intentional in my compliments, ensuring they reflect the genuine enthusiasm I feel.
Leave a Reply