The other day, I stumbled upon a rather amusing realization about myself—I might have been utterly clueless about how to give compliments.
Allow me to set the scene. My partner and I were lucky enough to spend a few days in New Orleans, a city that had long been on my travel bucket list. Known for its vibrant music scene, delectable cuisine, and endless libations, we were particularly excited about the food. Our first stop was the renowned Commander’s Palace—a dining experience that promised to be unforgettable.
Let me tell you, this restaurant was something else! You know you’re in for a treat when you’re ready to splurge a bit, but the exceptional food and service make it more than worth it. Our service team, comprising a friendly woman and two attentive men, was top-notch.
When our waitress recommended the turtle soup, she claimed that if you hadn’t tried it here, you were missing out. And boy, was she right! I was expecting something creamy, but it was a rich, reddish-burgundy broth bursting with flavor and just the right touch of sherry. The pan-seared redfish that followed? Absolutely divine. Everything was perfection.
Then our waitress checked in on us, and here’s where my lesson began. “How are you enjoying everything so far?” she asked.
“Just fine,” I replied, thinking I was being polite.
Cue the panic! Our waitress’s expression shifted from friendly to alarmed. She consulted her teammates, and before I knew it, managers were involved. Apparently, “just fine” wasn’t nearly good enough at Commander’s Palace. They expected something more along the lines of “the best meal I’ve ever had!”
In my mind, the word “fine” was a compliment—something positive. But after witnessing the commotion, I started to see it from her perspective. “Just fine” could easily be interpreted as lukewarm praise. It was reminiscent of how we often misinterpret our partner’s responses—like when they say “just fine,” and you know they really mean “barely acceptable.”
To my relief, my partner jumped in, reminding everyone that just moments earlier, I had declared, “This dinner is freaking amazing!” She pointed out that I often downplay my true feelings. When a friend shares a big achievement, I might say, “That’s pretty good!” or chuckle and say, “That’s actually kind of funny” when I really mean it’s hysterical.
This little episode became a running joke for the rest of our trip. As we dined around the city, I made it a point to say our meals were “just fine,” but then followed it with over-the-top compliments. “How was your jambalaya?” I’d start. “Oh, just fine,” then add, “It’s honestly the most incredible jambalaya I’ve ever tasted!”
Of course, this strategy had its risks—one server thought I was being sarcastic, which was not my intention!
As I reflect on my habit of underselling compliments, I wonder if this tendency has roots in my upbringing. Maybe it’s an Irish thing; there’s a bit of a fatalistic streak that suggests if something is notably great, something not-so-great is sure to follow. So could this be my way of protecting myself from disappointment?
Regardless, I find myself questioning how many times I’ve offered “not bad” or “pretty good” when I genuinely meant to convey something much more enthusiastic. I owe a few apologies and clarifications to those I may have misled:
- To Max Roberts, CEO of Café Delight: I truly love this job and did not mean to imply otherwise when I said it was “definitely among the seven or eight best jobs I’ve had in the last 15 years.”
- To Lisa Carter, my fellow co-editor: Your piece about being mistaken for a street performer was not simply “kind of funny;” it was so hilarious that I nearly choked on my coffee while reading it.
- To the classmates who teased me in school: Don’t worry, I’m not just going to track you down; I’ll show you how to avoid the circles of life.
- To the Chrysler Group LLC: My Jeep, which I’ve had since 2011, is not just “pretty good.” It’s actually “fantastic,” despite some minor hiccups.
- To the writer we recently spoke with: I apologize for calling your work “actually quite good,” especially when my voice did that awkward pitch rise at the end: Your pieces were genuinely excellent.
- And to the beautiful weather in New Orleans, which I described as “nice” while chatting with a couple from Denver: Your sunny, 65-degree days and cool, 55-degree evenings were exactly what I needed to escape the early chill of the Northeast.
This little journey of self-discovery has left me chuckling and wishing I could turn back time to give everyone the compliments they truly deserved.
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Summary:
In this amusing reflection, Jamie Thompson reveals a surprising truth about their tendency to understate compliments. During a visit to New Orleans, a miscommunication with a waitress highlights how “just fine” can be perceived as inadequate. Through humorous anecdotes and some heartfelt apologies, Jamie explores the nuances of giving praise and the importance of expressing genuine appreciation.