T'other day, the Sparkly One and I happened to be staying in a hotel following a wedding. The next morning we trotted down to breakfast and, instead of the traditional Full English, I determined to ask for something a little lighter.
So I asked for a bacon sandwich.
In my mind, I could already taste the sandwich; salty tangy bacon on buttered brown bread - or even on buttered white bread, the butter melted from the warmth of the bacon.
When it arrived, it was on white bread, unbuttered.
I was disappointed. How could they not know how to make a bacon sandwich? I hadn't told them, of course; there was no way they could have known. So they had made the bacon sandwich they probably always make, unaware that I wanted something else. Or perhaps they deliberately made the lowest common denominator sandwich; experience in the catering trade leading them down the path of least offence.
It wasn't their fault, of course; it was mine, for not being precise about what I wanted. It's happened before. It may well happen again. But next time, I'll ask for it exactly as I want it. Then it's only myself I have to blame, and them to thank.
Disappointment averted.
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