My dad says guilt is a wasted emotion. Boy, is he wrong. It's all powerful. Just ask my mother.
I nominate for wasted emotion regret. Right now, I am full of food regret, but what's it going to get me? Nothing. See, I ordered a version of the Frappuccino at a local independent coffee house. When you get the Frappuccino at Starbucks, you choose a flavor, but decaf isn't really an option since they never have any. At this local joint, I just ordered the mocha, and, after it was too late to object without being a jerk, I noticed that it was made with whole milk. A whole lot of whole milk. And, since each one is made individually (the people in line behind me had murder on their minds), I realized too late that I could easily have ordered a decaf.
Now, while I should be happily sipping, I am full of whole fat whole milk, a whole lot of caffeine, and a bucketful of regret. Regret that gets me absolutely nothing and morphs into a torrid affair with guilt.
Don't even get me started on the regret over the cookie. I couldn't decide. Should I get oatmeal chocolate chip or the classic oatmeal raisin? I had plenty of time to contemplate (the individually made drinks and the vengeful crowd behind me, remember?), but finally the time came, and I choked. I ordered the oatmeal raisin, and as soon as I said it, I knew it was the wrong choice, but it was already on a plate, and the crowd had murder in their eyes, and, now, with every bite, I am filled with regret, and the longing for the oatmeal chocolate chip cookie that might have been.
'I should've ordered the salmon.' How many times have I heard my mom say that? Or 'Next time, I'll try something else.' That's a classic in her repertoire.
My mom, my poor mom, is always filled with dining regret in restaurants. My dad is so sweet, saying, 'Would you like to trade?'
'No, no. This is fine. I just should have ordered the salmon. But, this is fine, just fine. In fact, I really like it. It's just that I should have ordered something else.'
'Let's just trade for a little while,' says my dad, following right along with how this game is played. My mom acquiesces, almost reluctantly.
'This is good,' says my mom. 'Next time, I'm gonna get this.'
Part of the problem is the pressure. My mom is all decided, but when the server asks to take our order, beginning with the women at the table as tradition states, my mom inevitably can't make up her mind, and often passes, like a contestant on Password. When it finally comes around to her turn once again, well, it isn't pretty.
'I think I'll have ... '
'Yes?' prompts my dad. With a laugh, he reminds my mom that she said she was ready when the server asked.
With a shake of her head, and the closing of her eyes, as if she is choosing randomly, she orders, the server leaves, and she sadly says, 'I think I should've gotten the salmon.'
Really, we all hardly notice anymore. Does my mom, even? Probably not.
I can't fault her for her regret. What a bad feeling, when the food comes to the table, and the fellow diners ooh and aah appropriately, and you find yourself staring sadly down at a dinner you don't really want.
I've taken to looking online at menus of the restaurant I will be eating at. Then, ahead of time, I know what the choices are, and I can judge them based on all of the requirements I have. How nutritious is it, will it be the right size, is it just a little too expensive, can I ask for it with no cheese?
I find this approach especially helpful at business lunches, when all the focus needs to be keeping the conversation going, and away from the topics I am not prepared to discuss, like that rotten new database which seems like it will never be built.
If I don't study up ahead of time, I invariably fail in the order, or find myself stammering an unconvincing answer about missing fields and corrupted data.