Business & Pleasure

Business & Pleasure

don’t mix!

I knew I was out my comfort zone whenever I walked into the before dinner drinks party. Let me set the scene, so you understand one of the worst nights of my life...well, at least a truly embarrassing, cringe worthy worst night.

I had newly moved to the South of England with my husband. I had given up my job in television to move, so was perhaps feeling a bit vulnerable? When the invitation came for me to attend a dinner party at my husband’s new bosses’ home, you may understand I was a bit unsure, but as these things go, I couldn’t say no, even although I felt I was not on my best form!

I had met Mr & Mrs Boss before. Reflecting on this meeting, I probably revealed far too much about myself. I talk a lot when I’m nervous. When I heard I was to help entertain a dozen “Italian” agents, I thought back real hard and remembered how I had prattled on about my fathers’ side of the family being Italian and yes of course I spoke Italian??? Push the Panic button! What I should have said was, I spoke an Italian dialect. A dialect from a tiny mountain village in the southern Apennines.’ I can assure you Italy has well over 100 dialects and the North and South, well, suffice to say “never the twain shall meet” or, as a kind old lady in our little village in the south. asked my mother, when she was trying to learn Italian, proper Italian, not a dialect, why was she speaking like a book? I think she meant grammatically. Mother lived there 10 years and never spoke Italian again, but she did understand, read and write beautifully.

Back to the evening in question, no backing out, nowhere to go, how bad could it be? A quick doccia (shower in Italian) and I’m ready to go. They probably all spoke English anyway and I certainly knew enough Italian to get all the niceties out of the way. My thoughts really, deep breath, fingers crossed and smile.

I brush up quite well, it’s one of the perks of working in television, so walking into the - before dinner drinks party was a breeze. No, it was not. I was the only “OTHER” person in the room, everyone knew everyone and I was introduced as Mrs husband! What? Really? Identity crashed to the floor.

Right, now I know you are probably thinking I was making all the cringe worthy stuff worse, it was just in my head, well, even if it was, I pulled myself together and I did manage in my very best Italian to at least pretend I knew what the Italians were saying to each other. My husband? Well, he was about as much help to me as a chocolate kettle, he was off as soon as we arrived “networking” aha - so I took to the gin bottle. Thanking myself for eating that lovely dolci (sweet or dessert in Italian) so I wouldn’t be drinking on an empty stomach. It was, after all, a before dinner DRINKS party. Strangely enough my Italian became more and more fluent and I was feeling much happier by the time we went in to dinner. Phew, I could relax a bit now and enjoy my meal - NO? what the???

Mrs Boss came up to me and said how kind it was of me to offer to help entertain the agents. Offer? Me? What? Vaguely I heard her whisper in my ear “we have sat you next to the MD of our Milan office as he doesn’t like to speak English. We have the Florence office chief on your left. I will signal you when it’s time to serve desserts. dolci”. She pointed to the table in the corner of the room laden with delicious looking goodies, mmm dolci. Then she vanished from my side to take her position at the head of the table. Wait, don’t go, I thought this in my head, was I to serve dessert? No surely not? Through my gin fuddled brain, sense, maybe just direct everyone to the dolci dessert table, help yourself, that its, I’m going for the last option.

In fact the evening went quite well. Mr Milano was not easy to make conversation with and he constantly corrected my southern accent, yet Mr Florence was quite charming and easy to talk with, so of course I was doing my best to chat to him most of the time, that is till I caught the glares and head nods from dear hubby, so I turn to Mr Milano and try to make conversation. This was disaster from the first word, he corrected every sentence I made, although he must have understood what I was saying, otherwise how could he correct me? Right? Secret smile to myself.

As I fumbled on explaining where we came from in Italy, he rudely interrupted and commenced to explain to everyone at the table that I was “il paesano” which loosely translated from Italian means “villager or peasant” I continued smiling and addressed the table explaining it was true once upon a long time ago we were poor farmers, but now most of the relatives from our village are very successful business people, not only in Britain, in fact world wide. In one case at least a knighthood from her majesty the Queen. He ignored everything and almost talked over me extolling the virtues of the North. The Northerners works very hard and gives all the money to the Southerns who just take. I really gave up with an audible sigh, again - the look - from my dear supportive husband. I was trying, honestly, but now another gulp of wine and the dread of this night never ending. In desperation to change the subject I tried to explain that I was a dancer, my mistake I used dancer instead of ballerina, believe me there was inuendo!

Finally the hostesses signal, a nod and indication to the dessert table. Yippee dolci, I turned to Mr Milano and explained it was time to go to the dessert table, I would show him the way, exactly “ti va di andare al tavolo dei DOLCI? lascia che ti mostri la strada.”

He did not react as I had hoped, he went bright red and whispered “NO itsa imposeebalay” what? It’s impossible, why? I tried again in case of a misunderstanding? Again No, followed by, in broken English “Grazie, sank you very much, I sink it is no good idea.” then added quickly “per il momento”

Not a good idea? for the moment? Okay, I really had about as much as could take with this guy and the whole table was waiting for me to move and everyone was watching and listening. I decided to stand up and go to the dessert table and maybe he would follow?

Instead I heard a scream of laughter and very fast Italian being spoken and everyone was talking and laughing, no one moved. I turned to face the table and smiled………then I saw my husbands face. What have I done now?

Our gracious hostess, just as if this happened at every dinner party, called me over and said “It seems Mr Milano doesn’t want to go for a shower with you, well not for the moment.” Then with a wry smile she addressed the table, please help yourselves to dessert, or if anyone wants a shower? And with a small polite laugh glanced at me and said, I think I will pour you some champagne.

If your confused let me explain. Dessert and shower are very similar words in Italian. dolce = sweet. doccia = shower. So it seems with my peasant accent = accento contadino, I was asking the MD of the Milan office to follow me, as I would like to show him where we could take a shower, together. That is what HE says HE heard? Nope, there definitely is no talking, in any language, that gets you out of a situation like this!

I have been told that story goes round every time these agents get together. Oh and for the record, my husband is now my ex’.

Life is too short to dwell on our mistakes, just learn and try not to repeat them, unless of course your dinner partner is really hot, then, go for it. take a dolci doccia! I feel a warm smile rush through me at that thought.