I married a meat and potatoes guy (of my own free will and choice) who claims he will try one bite of just about anything, but draws the line at sushi. Glorious, heavenly sushi, the substance of the gods. So, because there is no room in my marriage for the sunset roll, the shrimp tempura roll, or spicy tuna, I am always looking for new sushi buddies.
David is my middle brother, the third of 5 children, and someone who occupies a very special place in my left ventricle. Even though I already love his guts and he has nothing to prove to me, he agreed to try sushi for the first time, with his big sis.
We had a lovely meal and he made the appropriate yummy sounds and gestures, so I think he wasn't lying when he said he loved it! When the check came, I noticed that our server had not charged us for David's Coke. I wondered if it was a nice gesture on her part, or if she had inadvertently left it off the bill. Because I am a she-devil, I didn't really think much of it, but David mentioned that he would ask her about it when she came to take our cards. When she took the little black folder, David and I were too busy exchanging funny stories to remember the tiny detail of the Coke, so we didn't say anything. As she was charging our cards though, David remembered and vowed to make it right when she came back.
In the meantime, the owner of the tiny sushi restaurant came over to ask us how we enjoyed our meal. He was surprised to learn that David had just experienced his first sushi and was pleased that we chose his fine establishment for my brother's premier. As we were chatting with him (and concentrating hard on understanding his words through his strong Japanese accent), we could see our server approaching our table with our cards. This jogged David's memory about the drink, so without thinking, he blurted out, "She forgot to charge me for my drink!"
Immediately, we knew this was the wrong thing to say, or rather the wrong person to whom to say it, as our server bowed her head in defeat and stood like a dog with its tail in between its legs. In the owner's chipper voice, he said, "That's okay; it will come out of her tip." Thinking for a split second that he was joking, I laughed, "Ha!... oh." And she said in a defeated voice, "Yeah, it'll come out of my tip."
David and I exchanged embarrassed glances and anxiously twiddled our thumbs as we stammered our apologies and tried to let the awkward moment pass. I guess sometimes honesty is not the best policy after all.