A businessman took four clients, including my colleague, out for dinner at a very fancy and expensive French restaurant. He asked his guests what they would like to have and then took it upon himself to order for all of them in French. He did it all -- appetizers, wine, entrees, side dishes -- struggling mightily at times to dredge up vocabulary and syntax buried deep in the memory of his high school French. It was a slow and tedious process.
The whole time he spoke, the waiter stood silently, his pen poised over his order pad, but he wasn't writing anything down.
When at last the ordeal was over, the guy closed his menu with an air of finality and permitted himself a small triumphant smile.
Then, very politely, the waiter said, "I'm sorry, sir. All the French-speaking waiters have gone home."
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