Party size: 2
Customers: Overweight man and his wife. Both are in their early 50s. Tourists.

I meander over to the table and get them started like all other tables.

Cheer: “Can I up-sell you bottled water or do you prefer icy tap water brought by a Mexican?”

Customers: “We prefer icy tap water brought by a Mexican.”

After the water has successfully found its way to their table, thanks to my Mexican partner in crime, I jog on over for stage 2.

Cheer: “Would you appreciate it if I brought you a strong alcoholic beverage in order to get your buzz on, in order to enjoy consuming food with your fat spouse?”

Customers: “No. We’re used to being boring and fat together.”

Cheer: “Okay. Would you like to hear our dinner specials?”

Customers: “Ooooh, aahhh, yes.”

Cheer: “We have a approximately one billion specials which I will now recite to you with perfect pitch and rhythm. I have done this so many times that I will zone out and think about more interesting things, like the sex I had last night, how toothpicks are made, or maybe about how blueberry muffins never seems to have enough blueberries. After I’m done I’ll snap out of autopilot and we’ll go from there. Let’s get started.

The soup tonight is the same soup we had last night and the night before. The other “specials” are available most nights and really ought to be printed on the menu. It’s nearing the end of the season for this one thing we have that comes with jicama. You will never see the word jicama printed anywhere and the only way you know we have jicama in our kitchen is because I just verbally told you about it. Also, we have a snazzy steak with a fancy preparation. The end.”

I leave the table and allow them to ponder which types of edibles will most suit them in the upcoming hour. After an amount of time which I deem appropriate for making such decisions, I return.

Cheer:  “Do you have any questions that I can truthfully answer, ask someone else for the answer, or outright lie about, but in a very convincing manner?”

Man: “Yeah…Tell me about that special again…the one with the jick-uh-muh.” (The j being said like the j in jump.)

I hear the man’s bastardization of the word jicama but I do not immediately realize the significance of the situation because people bastardize words all the time in the restaurant. It’s a favorite past time of diners. I default to repeating the word back to the customer with the correct pronunciation. It’s like teaching children to speak properly. No need for an explanation, just say it back to them correctly and they pick it up.

Cheer: “Oh yes, the dish with JICAMA (hee-kah-mah). It’s an amazing journey to take your taste buds on. It’s also expensive, so I highly recommend it.”

Man: “Ok. So, it has a lot of jick-uh-muh?”

I now realize the significance of the situation. It dawns on me that the man didn’t misread the word jicama because it was only brought to his attention through my verbal mention of it. This man is trying to perform the same say-the-word-back pronunciation technique on me. He’s trying to correct my pronunciation. I declare war.

Cheer: “Not an overwhelming amount of JICAMA. JICAMA is pretty mild in flavor, so it’s not going to take over the flavor of the dish. The JICAMA is sliced into small pieces and mixed with the other vegetables that are not JICAMA. The JICAMA just adds the right undertone to perfectly compliment the non-JICAMA aspects of this dish, which includes JICAMA.”

Man: “I’ll have the soup.”