As a waitress, I’ve heard countless mispronunciations of our international menu. But when I overheard Andrew “correcting” his girlfriend Amanda’s flawless Italian, German, and Mandarin, I just had to say something.
The Friday night rush at Flavors of the World restaurant always kept me on my toes. As a waitress, I loved the hustle and bustle, the clinking of glasses, and the hum of conversation.
But what I enjoyed most was listening to the diverse languages spoken by our patrons as they ordered from our international menu.
A waitress serving drinks at a restaurant | Source: Pexels
One couple in particular caught my attention: Amanda and Andrew. They were regulars, who came in every Friday without fail.
Amanda had her bright eyes and a gentle demeanor. She always impressed me with her linguistic abilities.
She’d order dishes in their native tongues, and her pronunciation was spot-on whether it was Mandarin, Spanish, Italian, or German.
“Buonasera [Good evening],” Amanda greeted me one evening. “Potrei avere gli gnocchi alla sorrentina, per favore [could I have the gnocchi alla sorrentina, please]?”
A plate of gnocchi | Source: Pexels
I smiled, appreciating her flawless Italian. “Certamente, signora. Ottima scelta [Certainly, ma’am. Excellent choice]!”
Andrew, on the other hand, was a different story. Tall and conventionally handsome, he carried himself with an air of superiority that set my teeth on edge.
Every time Amanda spoke, he’d interrupt, “correcting” her pronunciations with his own butchered versions.
A woman looking sad at a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
“It’s not ‘nyocky,’” he’d say, rolling his eyes. “It’s ‘guh-nocky.’ Honestly, Amanda, you sound ridiculous.”
I’d bite my tongue, not wanting to be rude and possibly reduce my tip.
Amanda would always shrink a little at his words. “I’m sorry, Andrew. I thought –”
“No, you didn’t think,” he’d cut her off. “Just order like a normal person next time, okay?”
An angry looking man at a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
This pattern repeated week after week. Amanda would order beautifully in whatever language the dish originated from, and Andrew would belittle her efforts.
“Ich hätte gerne das Wiener Schnitzel, bitte [I would like the Wiener Schnitzel, please],” Amanda said one night in impeccable German.
“It’s ‘weiner snitchel,’ Amanda,” Andrew scoffed, bothering the name of the typical Austrian dish. “Stop trying to sound fancy.”
A plate of Wiener Schnitzel | Source: Pexels
I watched as Amanda’s confidence dwindled with each passing week, and it broke my heart to see such talent and passion being stifled.
This particular Friday was different for some reason.
Amanda’s usual smile was strained as she and Andrew walked in. But I quickly realized why.
Behind them trailed an older couple I hadn’t seen before, but the family resemblance was clear. Andrew’s parents.
An older couple walking into a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
I approached their table with a notepad in hand. “Good evening, folks. What can I get you tonight?”
Amanda glanced at the menu, then at Andrew, before speaking softly. “I’ll have the pho ga, please.”
“It’s ‘foe guh,’ Amanda. God, do you have to be so pretentious all the time?”
Amanda’s cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry, I just –”
An upset woman at a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
“Don’t mind her,” Andrew cut in, addressing his parents. “She thinks she’s so smart, always showing off.”
His mother tutted sympathetically. “Oh, sweetie,” she said to Amanda, “are you always such a bragger? Can’t you speak normally?”
I gripped my pen tighter and felt my knuckles whitening. Amanda looked like she wanted to disappear.
Andrew leaned into her ear but whispered loud enough for me to hear. “Stop shaming me. Talk like a normal person.”
A man at a restaurant leaning close to a woman | Source: Midjourney
When tears welled in Amanda’s eyes, I knew I couldn’t stand by any longer.
“Nín hǎo [Hello],” I said, addressing Andrew in Mandarin. “Qǐng bùyào rúcǐ cūlǔ de duìdài nín de nǚpéngyǒu [Please do not treat your girlfriend so rudely].”
Andrew’s jaw dropped. Amanda’s head snapped up, surprise replacing the hurt in her eyes.
“Xièxiè nǐ [Thank you],” Amanda replied, her Mandarin flowing smoothly. “Zhè duì wǒ yìyì zhòngdà [This means a lot to me].”
A woman at a restaurant looking up and smiling | Source: Midjourney
Andrew and his parents exchanged bewildered glances. “What’s going on?” he demanded. “What are you saying?”
“Oh, I was just asking you not to treat your girlfriend so rudely. And Amanda was thanking me, saying it means a lot to her,” I answered sweetly.
“I don’t believe you!” he accused me. “You’re making that up. You’re insulting us!”
“Son,” his father interjected, “maybe you should –”
An older man looking upset at a restaurant | Source: Pexels
“No!” Andrew slammed his hand on the table. “She’s lying. She has to be. Amanda, what did she say?”
Amanda sat up straighter, and her eyes sparkled. Something had changed. “She’s not lying, Andrew. And neither am I when I pronounce words correctly in other languages.”
“But… but I thought…” Andrew sputtered.
A man confused and surprised at a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
“You thought wrong,” Amanda said firmly. “I’ve spent years studying languages. Just because you don’t understand something doesn’t make it wrong or shameful.”
“So what, you’re some kind of genius now? Is that what you’re saying?”
“No,” Amanda replied. “I’m just someone who loves languages and has worked hard to learn them. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
A notebook and a book with notes on learning Spanish | Source: Pexels
Andrew’s mother chimed in, obviously embarrassed by the scene they were causing. “Sweetie, don’t you think it’s a bit… much? Always showing off like this?”
“It’s not showing off to use the skills you’ve worked hard to acquire” Amanda retorted. “Would you say the same thing to a musician playing an instrument well?”
“Well, I… that’s different.”
“How?” Amanda challenged. “How is it different?”
A woman with a raised eyebrow at a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
Andrew’s father cleared his throat. “Now, let’s all calm down. I’m sure we can-“
“No, Dad,” Andrew cut in. “I want to hear this. Go on, Amanda. Tell us how smart you are.”
I watched in anticipation as Amanda took a deep breath. “This isn’t about being smart or bragging! It’s about respect. Respect for other cultures, for the effort people put into learning, and for me as a person.”
A smiling waitress | Source: Pexels
“Respect?” Andrew scoffed. “What about respecting me? Do you know how embarrassing it is when you start spouting off in some foreign language?”
“Embarrassing for whom?” Amanda shot back. “For you? Because you can’t understand it? Have you ever thought that maybe, just maybe, the problem isn’t with me speaking other languages but with your reaction to it?”
The restaurant had grown quiet as other diners watched the scene unfold. Andrew’s mother cleared her throat awkwardly. “Perhaps we should go somewhere else.”
A busy restaurant | Source: Pexels
“I think that’s a good idea,” Amanda agreed and stood. “And I’ll be going home. Alone!” She turned to me. “Thank you for your kindness. Grazie mille. Danke schön. Muchas gracias!”
With that, she walked out and held her head high. I smiled and waited.
Andrew and his parents shuffled out soon after with their tails between their legs.
A restaurant door | Source: Pexels
The following Friday, I was surprised to see Amanda walk in alone. She looked different, somehow lighter, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
“Table for one?” I asked.
She nodded, smiling. “Yes, please. And I’d love to chat if you have a moment.”
Once I’d seated her and taken her order, I pulled up a chair. “How are you doing?”
A seated woman smiling | Source: Pexels
“Better than I have in a long time,” Amanda admitted. “I broke up with Andrew the day after… well, you know.”
I nodded encouragingly. “That must have been tough.”
“It was, but it was also liberating. I realized I’d been living in fear of his judgment for so long. When I told him it was over, he couldn’t believe it.”
“What did he say?” I asked, curious.
A blonde woman smiling | Source: Pexels
“He said, ‘You’re making a mistake, Amanda. Who’s going to put up with your show-off behavior?’ Can you believe that?” Amanda shook her head. “I told him, ‘Someone who appreciates intelligence and curiosity! Someone unlike you.’”
I grinned. “Good for you! How did that feel?”
“Terrifying and exhilarating all at once,” Amanda laughed. “But you know what? Your intervention made me realize how much I’d been diminishing myself to make him comfortable. I’d forgotten how much joy I found in languages, and in learning about different cultures. I’d let him convince me it was something to be ashamed of.”
A smiling woman at a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
“I’m glad I could help,” I said. “No one should make you feel small for being passionate about something.”
Amanda’s eyes shone. “Absolutely. And you know what? I’ve decided to apply for a job as a translator. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do but never dared to pursue.”
“That’s fantastic!” I exclaimed. “Where are you applying?”
A blonde woman at a restaurant | Source: Pexels
“There’s an international non-profit organization that works with refugees. They need translators who can speak multiple languages fluently. It’s perfect for me.”
As we continued talking, switching between languages with ease, I marveled at the change in Amanda. She radiated confidence and enthusiasm, and just because I stepped in at last.
When it was time for me to get back to work, Amanda reached out and squeezed my hand. “Thank you again. For everything.”
Hand shake at a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
I squeezed back. “Anytime and good luck!”
Sometimes, all it takes is one small act of kindness to help someone find their self-confidence again. And in a world full of different languages and cultures, all voices deserve to be heard, loud and clear.
A smiling woman at an office | Source: Midjourney
My Stepmother Secretly Gave Me a Towel – My Dad’s Reaction When He Saw It in My Bathroom Flabbergasted Me
My stepmother and I never got along for some reason. But when she gave me an unexpected gift, I thought our relationship was changing. Then I discovered the truth about the present and had to confront her! Little did I know that the innocent gift would lead to a new life!
A happy woman looking at herself in the mirror while wearing a towel to dry her hair | Source: Pexels
My tale is about learning to understand each other, even if it’s someone you don’t quite click with. But before we get to that lesson, buckle up as I give you all the juicy details of how I got here.
My stepmother, Judy, and I had always had a rocky relationship. We were too different and never really saw eye to eye. Our connection never felt genuine, so we were never close. Despite our differences, I couldn’t deny that she made my father, Steve, happy after my mother’s passing.
A happy man embracing a woman from behind | Source: Pexels
His contentment was something I valued deeply. Here’s where my story starts getting interesting. One afternoon, while I was visiting my dad and stepmom, the latter did something unexpected. While Judy and I were alone in the house, she surprised me by handing me a towel.
It was a simple gesture, but it caught me off guard. The towel was soft, with delicate embroidery of daisies, which I had always loved. I accepted it politely, hoping it was a step toward bridging the gap between us.
An uncertain-looking woman holding a towel | Source: Pexels
“Thanks, Judy,” I said, trying to sound sincere. “It’s really nice.” My stepmother smiled awkwardly. “I thought you might like it. Just a little something.” I nodded and placed the towel in my bathroom later that day, feeling a strange mix of emotions.
I wanted to believe Judy was making an effort to connect with me, but a part of me remained skeptical. Yet, I brushed the feeling off, wanting to build a healthier and happier relationship with the woman my father loved.
A happy middle-aged man wearing a toolbelt and holding tools | Source: Freepik
A week later, my father came over to my place to fix a leaky faucet. He had always been the go-to handyman in my life, and I appreciated his willingness to help. As he walked into the bathroom, he spotted the towel hanging there.
His expression instantly shifted from neutral to one of intense disgust! Without saying a word, he grabbed the towel, marched to the kitchen, and threw it into the trash can with force!
An upset middle-aged man covering his face with his hands | Source: Pexels
“Dad, what’s going on? Why did you do that?” I asked, completely taken aback and confused by his reaction. “Sweetheart, I hope you haven’t used that towel yet because it…” He paused struggling to find the right words.
“Because it belonged to our old dog!” he finally blurted out, his voice a mix of anger and revulsion. I stared at him, trying to process what he had said. “Wait, what? OUR old dog? You mean Buster, the one that passed away years ago?” I asked, feeling a wave of confusion and a bit of disgust.
A confused and upset woman gesturing with her hands | Source: Pexels
“Yes,” my father confirmed, looking at me with concern and seriousness. “But Judy gave it to me as a gift!?” I exclaimed in confusion. “Judy must have found it while cleaning out the attic,” he speculated.
“I guess she didn’t realize what it was, but it’s not something you want to be using.” A shiver ran down my spine, and I felt a surge of nausea. The thought of using a towel that had been used on our old dog was REVOLTING!
A woman after giving a dog a bath | Source: Pexels
Now it made sense why I was uneasy and a bit skeptical about the sudden gift. Later that day, I decided to confront Judy about the towel. I needed to understand her reasoning. “Judy, why did you give me that towel?” I asked, my voice steady but curious.
She sighed, looking a bit embarrassed. “When I found that towel in the attic, it looked almost new,” she started explaining. “I thought it would be a nice gesture to give it to you, to save money and maybe try to bond with you.”
A remorseful-looking woman facing down | Source: Pexels
She continued, “I didn’t tell your father because I didn’t want him to think I was being cheap again.” I nodded, recalling how my dad often complained about her thriftiness. It was a habit she developed from growing up in poverty.
“You know how he ALWAYS gets upset about my frugality.” It was true, I’d seen how my stepmother rarely bought anything new. This was a woman who’d wear her clothes until they were threadbare before she could even THINK about buying something new!
A guilty-looking woman seated | Source: Pexels
“I had no idea it was Buster’s,” she continued, her voice tinged with genuine regret. “It looked like it had only been used a few times, so I thought it would be fine.” Looking at the floor she said, “I’m REALLY sorry for the mistake.”
I could see the sincerity in her eyes, but I still felt a mix of emotions. The truth was I was still disturbed by the idea of using a dog towel. But, I also understood her intentions and the challenges she faced due to her upbringing.
A seated woman thinking | Source: Pexels
“It’s fine,” I said, brushing her arm, trying to reassure her. “I appreciate that you were trying to connect with me. Maybe next time, we should find a DIFFERENT way to bond?” I replied, trying to lighten the mood.
She smiled, relieved by my positive response. “Yes, of course! I promise to be more careful in the future.” Leaving my dad’s home, I felt a deeper understanding of my stepmom and her past.
A remorseful-looking woman | Source: Pexels
The incident, though awkward and unsettling, brought a new layer of connection between us. It catalyzed healing, and our relationship began to improve after that. We started spending time together, finding common ground in activities we both enjoyed.
One evening, Judy invited me over for dinner. She had cooked all my favorite dishes: chicken Alfredo, garlic bread, and even a homemade chocolate cake. “Wow, Judy, this looks AMAZING,” I said, touched by the effort she had put into the meal.
Homemade garlic bread | Source: Pixabay
It was obvious that she’d spoken to my dad, wanting to know what my favorite food was. “I just wanted to do something special for you,” she replied with a shy smile. “After the towel incident, I realized we never spent much time together.”
As we sat down to eat, we started talking about our lives. My stepmother shared stories from her childhood. She explained how her mother had instilled in her the value of frugality. Judy told me about her dreams and the obstacles she faced in her upbringing.
A happy younger woman and an older one working in the kitchen | Source: Pexels
“I know your father judges my behavior,” she said. “But it’s hard to shake off those habits. They were INGRAINED in me from a young age.” I nodded, understanding her perspective better. “I get it, Judy. We all have things from our past that shape who we are. It’s not always easy to change.”
Our conversation flowed naturally, and for the first time, I felt like I was getting to know Judy. She wasn’t just my stepmother; she was a person with her own history and challenges. After that dinner, Judy and I started spending even more time together.
Two women walking down a beach | Source: Pexels
We went shopping, cooked meals, and even took a few day trips to explore nearby towns! Each time we hung out, I learned something new about her, and our relationship slowly began to shift.
My father was THRILLED, to say the least! One sunny Saturday, we decided to tackle a DIY project together. My dad had mentioned wanting to build a small garden in the backyard. Judy thought it would be a great way for us to bond further.
A middle-aged woman harvesting carrots in a garden | Source: Freepik
As we worked on the garden, planting flowers and setting up a small fountain, we chatted about EVERYTHING. We tackled favorite movies to life goals. I discovered that my stepmother had ALWAYS dreamed of traveling! But had never had the opportunity.
“Maybe we can plan a trip together,” I suggested, wiping sweat from my forehead. “I’d love to see the Grand Canyon or even go to Europe someday!” Judy’s eyes lit up with excitement. “That sounds AMAZING, Sarah. I’d LOVE that.”
Two happy women embracing on a beachfront | Source: Pexels
The more time we spent together, the more I realized how much we were alike! Perhaps that’s why we clashed so much in the past. We both loved nature, cooking, and exploring new places. It was like discovering a new friend in someone I had known for years!
One evening, as we all sat down for dinner, my father looked at Judy and me with a content smile. “I’m glad to see you two getting along so well,” he said, his voice filled with warmth. “It’s something I’ve always hoped for.”
A man standing in the background watching his wife and daughter bond | Source: Freepik
Judy and I exchanged a knowing glance. We both knew that our relationship had come a long way since the towel incident. “I’m glad we finally understand each other and gave one another a chance,” I shared, holding my stepmom’s hand.
A happy couple and woman having a toast while enjoying a meal | Source: Freepik
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