Adventures in mis-communication

The other day I bought a packaged sandwich for lunch in a New York shop. There were many varieties of sandwiches on hand, and the one I selected was terrific – with avocado, boiled eggs and an exotic sauce. Later in the day, after three long meetings and too much arm waving on my part, I returned to the same shop and – why not? – chose the same sandwich.

When I reached the counter, a smiling face greeted me – a dark-skinned man I had seen earlier in the day. I think he had an accent, perhaps West African. As I handed over my credit card, I held up the sandwich and said cheerfully: “I had this same sandwich before. It was great.”

The counter-man frowned. He was willing to serve me but apparently had no idea what I wanted.

“This one. I ate this one already." I said, waving the sandwich. “It was great.”

I took back the credit card while the man stared. His face had “What th-?” written all over it. As I turned away, I realized that, well, this is not literally the same sandwich I had eaten for lunch. I had actually eaten a different one before, made the same way. I peeled back the wrapping and muttered, “…it looked exactly like this sandwich.”

What was in my mind? I had wanted to commend the hard-working staff for making irresistible sandwiches. Perhaps I also felt self-conscious about returning to the same shop and eating the same food. What if this was the same guy who had served me earlier? I don’t want him thinking that I mindlessly chew on the same food over and over like a lab rat conditioned for pellets.

Let’s turn the scene around and look at it from the counter-man's standpoint. What is he thinking? The counter-man is paid by the hour. It’s been a long day. The coffee urn needs to be checked. But something strange is occurring. Right now, in his immediate range of vision – just to the left of the register – is a white man with thinning hair laughing and waving a sandwich that he claims to have already eaten. The man keeps saying, “This sandwich, I already ate this sandwich.”

The counter-man thinks: “I should try not to alarm this guy. I will swipe his card and give him the napkins. There. He is taking the napkins and walking away. But he seems unhappy. I hope he will not tell the boss. I should have helped him unwrap the sandwich and tried to lift the food to his lips.”

My point: We often do not understand the other guy. Perhaps we can never fully understand the other guy. But as professional communicators, we need to try and – with the recognition that we are likely to fail – try very hard to understand and communicate every time we interact with our fellow human beings.

Brandsinger