Cell Phones and Italian Food

There was a time when I couldn't wait to get a cell phone. And once I did, it was the most wonderful thing in my life. I could connect with anyone I needed to without having to run back home or go to a public phone to make a phone call. I was in Heaven. But then the phone rang and rang and rang. And I soon learned I hated the sound of the ring. Then I discovered you could change the ring to announce the person who was calling me. How cool was this??? So now I had many ring tones but couldn't remember which one was associated with which friend. So honestly, I started to IGNORE the calls and only listened to the voice mails.

Many of the guys in the Firehouse had phones that had what you called VIBRATION on their cell phones. The phone didn't ring...... it just vibrated. I spent weeks trying to find out how to make MINE do that. My phone was old and didn't have that option. I was disappointed. Everyone told me to get a new phone. I liked my phone (it was Fire Engine RED!) Then I found out I could UPGRADE my phone (with a 2 year contract). Oh well, what the heck? I had no other plans, I wasn't going anywhere in the next 2 years. So I upgraded. And now my new phone had the ability to "vibrate" rather than ring. This was so cool!

When I went to the Firehouse the next day for work, I was so excited and happy to show off my new phone. For once I would be "up-to-date" as far as technology was concerned and with everyone else! I arrived at my Station for my shift . Everyone was at the dinner table eating. I walked in and announced, "Hey everyone! I FINALLY got a VIBRATOR!"

Someone shouted, "You GO, girl!!!"

Others gave unmentionable comments.

I guess a vibrating phone (which is what I meant!) can be perceived as a personal vibrator with a minimal amount of incorrect English at the most incorrect time.

Another case in point:

We had decided to have lunch at an Italian restaurant. Our day was slow and we were sure we'd have enough time before being called out on an emergency. At least our fingers are crossed since we don't go out to eat often and this place had been highly recommended.

We were seated and were in the process of ordering. At the time this happened, I was just learning Italian. I ordered a particular dish and asked the waiter (who had a very strong Italian accent), "Does this dish have any preservatives in it?" (I get migraines from MSG and needed to know!). His name was Giuseppe and he asked me, "Do you WANT preservatives???" I told him NO. He was quiet for some moments and then said, "We can prepare your dish without preservatives but just to let you know we don't normally add them." I was happy for this but concerned about his giggles and laughter and Italian bantering with the others in the kitchen....... who also laughed like they heard the funniest thing they ever heard before.

I found out later that "preservatives" in Italian meant CONDOMS. My goodness. I can't just learn "Italian"... I have to learn what ISN'T Italian!

It is not so bad to make a fool of yourself in public (you can laugh at yourself and make someone's day). Somewhere down the road, everything will be forgotten and forgiven. But to do it while in uniform is another thing....