Dispensable words

“LAST DANCE in QC Circle,” by Gilda Cordero Fernando, owned by Mae Paner

There are phrases that to me seem dispensable, or worse, annoying on a bad day.  I wish they could be put in a back drawer till they regain their original meanings.

Restaurants

Let me start with restaurants.  “Do you have a reservation?” is a standard question, I agree.  But when two of you appear for lunch at the door of a restaurant that is practically empty and it is 1:30 p.m., you want to retort with, Bakit, puno ba?  (Why, are you full?)  People who have reserved usually volunteer the information themselves at the door.  And reservations are for restaurants that are full because they are popular.

Then there’s the solicitous waiter who interrupts your conversation with “How do you like your food?”  Once is fine.  But then another waiter comes along and asks the same question and even a third one.  It becomes double harassment when the place is a semi-fast food franchise and they cook the same old standard 200 times a day.

Here’s an annoying question from husband’s friends:  “Are you alone?  Why isn’t your husband with you?”  Because I’m just buying a bottle of salad dressing in the supermarket, puede ba?

My husband used to get the same annoying question from some conservative women friends when dining in a restaurant alone.  “Where is Gilda?  Why are you alone?”  When assured that I am gadding around elsewhere, person looks about suspiciously, short of peering under the table cloth for the date he must surely be hiding.  (C’mon, he’s too smart for that!)

Useless questions

“How old do you think I am?” is another useless question often asked.  Naman, as if you’d ever get the truth!

“LOVAPALOOZA,” by Gilda Cordero Fernando

“Do you know who I am?”  is to bully a traffic cop or security guard in order to get out of a real or trumped-up infraction.  I once got out of such a predicament through a mistaken identity when Mr. Bayani Fernando (whom I’m not related to) was still MMDA chief.  The policeman had asked to look at my ID and said “Sorry po, ma’am, di ko alam na kamag-anak kayo ni boss.” Who was I to quibble about that!

I called up a friend and an apparently aging maid who answered had a similar miscue.  “Sino po sila?” she asked, “Si Mrs. Fernando po,” I answered.  “Ay, Mrs. Poe, saglit lang.”  Who would mind being mistaken for Susan Roces!

When the party I’m phoning is out and I want the maid to remember my name, I used to say, sabihin mo si Hilda Coronel,” Invariably the message got through but I’m sure the poor maid was scolded for getting my name wrong (That was long before Marian Rivera and Lovi Poe became the movie stars).

For old people, the most annoying question is “Who am I?  Guess!” (Fat chance I would remember that I gave you A’s in my practice teaching class, or that you bought an expensive antique from my shop!  But I will answer politely, “Of course I recognize you but I just can’t attach the proper name right now!”

When introducing two friends, one whose name you can’t remember, I have found the perfect palusot.  I say, “Just introduce yourselves to each other because when I get flustered I can’t even remember my sister’s name.”  But if one says her name and the clueless one doesn’t, what do you do?

Losing appeal

“Love you!” is another phrase that is fast losing its appeal for me.  For people close to my generation, who grew up in an undemonstrative era, time was when we would urge our children to say “I love you” to everyone.  But “love you’s” have gone berserk lately and are flung about like cheap candy.  And it is becoming practically meaningless.  I think it is important to impress on young people that saying so is meaningless unless accompanied by some thoughtfulness and sincerity, some awareness that one is addressing another human being.

Then there’s the silly question all little children are made to answer.  “Sino ang mahal mo, si papa o si mama?!  Maybe I’m just getting too old and jaded.  But jeepers creepers!

I hope God’s name too is not falling into such a rut.  I love and respect my God.  I don’t relish hearing people calling “si Lord” to fill the gaps or to get a silent ally (who may not even agree).  “Oh my God!” is interjected in every episode of US TV shows.   Every other person condemned of a felony or a heinous act will automatically call on God as his witness that he is innocent.  I have a photo of Gloria Macapagal flanked by a dozen caparisoned bishops.  What is that picture supposed to mean?

Beware!  Don’t say “How do you like your food ma’am?” today.  Don’t ask me to guess your age or who you are.  Don’t say “I love you” as you run out the door.  And show me some respect ’cause it’s my bad hair day.

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