We don’t eat takeaway food a lot. I could pretend I am all holier than thou and “clean eating” or whatever trend is happening now. BUT – my man doesn’t like it – or doesn’t like paying for it – or prefers my cooking – something like that.
So I always feel a bit of guilt when I’m craving a bit of food delivery. Plus – where I live is a small town, and there are slim pickings.
Anyways – yesterday I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I braved the guilt (self-inflicted) and we decided to order some local Chinese food.
Ever since I first saw Sandra Bullock order pizza online in the movie “The Net” – the whole idea of not having to speak to anyone to make an order. Then, having the food just turn up at my door has been the ultimate goal for me.
I love choosing. I love putting things in my cart. Out of my cart. It’s a thing for me.
So after I clicked “Order Now”, I busy myself with organising a space for this food. Putting plates on the coffee table (this is a bit “naughty” too – we usually eat at the table). I tried to appear like I wasn’t counting the minutes.
Long story shot – food arrives – I sat myself as close to the coffee table as possible. I opened the plastic containers and…
I’m looking at this food – and it looks baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad.
The pork is glowing a nuclear shade of red, and there is no vegetable in sight. The sauce on the beef has congealed to the consistency of custard. The satay chicken skewers are a weird greeny-yellow. And the greatest indignity – the fried rice is only half full and looks like it’s been microwaved. Possibly more than once. I’m a keen cook – and you can’t slip microwaved rice by me – this rice was one solid dark brown mass.
BUT – I persevered. I didn’t want my takeaway bubble of bliss popped.
I shouldn’t have persevered. When I ate the satay, my tongue started burning. The sauce on the pork tasted more like strawberry jam. The veggies in the stir fry were so overcooked that they melted into the sauce, and we had to cut the rice with a knife.
So I did something I rarely do. We’d had takeaway from this lovely family run business before, so I thought I’d let them know.
I was very mild about what had happened. I said how much we usually enjoyed their food, but that we were disappointed. Each dish was $25 – so it hadn’t been cheap.
I pushed “SEND” and within 30 minutes I had a reply.
“I am sorry if you didn’t like our food. You are the only person who has ever complained. That is how Chinese food is normally cooked. I am sorry if you are mistaken about what it was like before.”
One of these words stuck in my craw the most.
I hear people doing this a lot in my sessions.
“I’m sorry” is an empty phrase at best, and turns toxic when the word if is thrown into the mix. Putting these words together is like making a nuclear bomb, and not a very productive or cool thing to say.
Apologising so that the other person feels heard and validated. So that they trust you’ll do your best not to repeat the hurtful action again. That requires a lot of skill and practice.
It’s these skills I teach and more – all day long. Kind of like a translator for the language of marriage
And it’s never too late to learn.
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