I never imagined that ordering lunch in the US would be an ordeal for me. Back in Afghanistan, I taught English for several years. I watched countless Hollywood movies, and worked with foreigners for almost four years. I performed well on standardized tests of English, or at least in English, like the TOEFL exam and the SATs.
So I never expected that bread, cheese or a drink would challenge my English abilities.
The day I arrived in the US, my plane was diverted to Raleigh-Durham Airport in North Carolina. While waiting for my next flight, I went to one of the cafeterias close to my gate. People were lined up, so I went to the end of the line. It was crowded and the staff was working hurriedly. Since I had no idea what cuisines they served, I decided to order just a sandwich.
I thought that's the simplest, easiest and fastest food to get. It was my turn to place my order. I asked the lady for a chicken sandwich. She asked,
"What do you want it on?" I stared at her quizzically and was speechless for a moment.
The lady asked louder, "What bun do you want?"
I said, "Just a chicken sandwich please."
The lady replied impatiently, "Yes, I know. But what bun?"
Credit: Kara Lozier
I didn't know what to say. I couldn't understand her. Then I thought maybe she was asking about the sauce.
"Hmmm, it doesn't matter," I responded.
She seemed irritated, and then asked rapidly, "Cheddar, pepper jack, Swiss, provolone, or American?"
This is what I heard: "Chedie, paper jack, Swiss (the country), provolo, or American (also, the country)?"
I wondered, "Are they different types of chicken? Does chicken differ from one country to another?" I stared at her mutely as my brain tried to decipher the meaning of those words.
Starting to sweat, I acted as if I didn't understand English at all. Then I said, "American please!" Maybe because that was the last option and the easiest to remember.
Then she asked, "Fountain drink or bottled soda?" I just wanted to cancel my order and stay hungry instead of standing in front of this hasty waitress who seemed frustrated by me and whose offers I couldn't understand at all.
My anxiety mounted in this crowded line of hungry customers who were all waiting for me to finish my order, and I, I just didn't know what to say. I said, "I just want a soft drink. That's it ma'am."
She said, "I know, but bottled or fountain?" That was more pressure than the TOEFL exam. I never imagined that buying a sandwich in the US would be this challenging and cause me so much embarrassment.
The $100 bill in my hand was damp with my sweat, squeezed and crumpled. "Bottled please," I said, although I had no idea what the difference was.
When I paid for my food, I stood in my place expecting my food to be delivered to the counter instantly. The lady said, "Sir, this is your slip. Please take a seat and we will call you when your food is ready."
I nodded like a parrot who understands everything people tell him and walked away. But now I wondered how she would call me. While sitting at my table, I watched and listened vigilantly. I realized she was calling customers by number. I stared at the number on my slip and listened intently. When I heard my number, I took my food and found a seat far away from the cafeteria.
As I ate my first meal in the US, I pondered over the fact that I knew words like abrogate, conflagration and inexorable, but not the words "bun" or "fountain drink." I could comfortably write professional technical proposals and review solicitations in English, but I broke into a sweat ordering a chicken sandwich.
And then I realized my lunch ordeal wasn't an English deficiency, but a cultural difference. I had just arrived from a country with very few options: bread is bread and cheese is cheese. And if we're lucky enough to have any choices, it’s usually the choice between yes or no.
This personal essay by Ali Shahidy was originally published in Norwich University's literary journal, "The Chameleon."
What do you — or your parents or grandparents — remember about arriving to the US? Global Nation, inspired by the South Asian American Digital Archive’s First Days Project, is looking for your stories. You can comment here or use the hashtag #firstdays on Twitter. And scroll through all the stories others have shared so far.
Comments
I had an exchange student from Minnesota who stayed in my university for one and a half year. He mixed with Malaysian students a lot and started to develop the Malaysian English or what we usually call Manglish. Malaysian usually add the word "lah" at the end of their speaking sentences and this student was so accustomed to doing that. Malaysian also has the habit of shortening the sentences like "You definitely can do it" would become "sure can do lah". When he returned to Minnesota after his exchange term, I received an e-mail from his mother who said that he was using weird English and most of his friends and relatives could not understand him. So, I do agree that language comes with culture context and we may be speaking the same language but it may mean different things in different context.
Thank you for this article! I am an American who lived for several years abroad. Upon returning to America, my reverse culture shock brought me to an all-time low one day in a local grocery. I had offered to pick up orange juice for a friend while out shopping, but once there, was stopped dead in my tracks; I stared in disbelief at the dairy cooler.
I just wanted orange juice, but had no idea which one to get since my friend hadn't specified. There were name brands and store brands, "from concentrate" or all natural, organic or processed, low acid, "homestyle", high pulp, no pulp, various sizes, glass, plastic or carton and even orange juice mixed with other juices, with or without added corn syrup, all in a wide array of price ranges. I burst into tears and walked away!
I work in a deli where (as a server) we are expected to ask what type of bread (white, wheat, rye,croissant, kaiser - with or without seeds - hoagie bun, onion roll) and cheese (american - white or yellow - swiss - domestic or aged imported, provolone - mild, smoked or aged, muenster, cheddar - white, yellow, mild or sharp - gouda - mild, aged, smoked - well you get the picture) on top of which kind of sandwich meat - turkey alone boggles the imagination. Would you like honey or hickory smoked, oven roasted, low sodium, pepper, all natural applewood smoked, cajun, buffalo - it's ridiculous. I grew up in a small suburban Ohio town, in a post-war environment where énough' was just that - enough to get by and no more. We made do or did without. We now live in a culture of more - more choices, more variety within those choices - where more quantity is expected - at no additional cost. Surrounded by overweight, overbearing self absorbed people - it amazes me we do not simply embarrass ourselves to death in this country. As Praetoriani said so well, servers cannot afford to take wrong orders, as customers will - without exception - complain then end up getting their order for free (server is blamed for the entire situation). People in service jobs are already on financial edge and cannot afford to lose their job over a miscommunication. Is it acceptable? Absolutely not. Will it change? Only when the consumer oriented culture of this country gets over itself and starts living within its means, with understanding of how out of balance this kind of situation is on a global scale.
My story is similar to Ali's only with the difference that I was the server with the same language proficiency that Ali had. So, having never heard of those terms in a restaurant context, I was the one who was supposed to ask "Fountain drink or bottled soda?" or "what bun" or "Cheddar, pepper jack, Swiss, provolone, or American?" and here is the trick: as a server, you cannot afford to take wrong orders, or you cannot say "it doesn't matter".
I'd say there was an English deficiency, but not on Ali's part--in fact, a lot of my fellow Americans use an improper, almost short-tongue version of the full English language. Asking:
"What do you want it on/what do you want on it? (frankly, I didn't know fast food did a lot of bun options)"
are common ways of asking:
"What style of sandwich bread would you like your chicken sandwich on, and what type of cheese would you like in the sandwich? For sandwich bread, we have options X, Y, and Z, and for cheese types we have options Q, R, and S."
And Americans have developed and truncated over the decades of fast-food customer service. We crave efficiency for the purpose of maximizing production or sales (or for the language savvy, maximizing satisfied customers), and it finds a way into our human culture.
It frustrates me (although not visibly) when I hear the phrase "for here or to go?" in fast-food restaurants. It's certainly among the most incoherent questions I could imagine a person asking me, but it reflects our ambition to incorporate language into efficiency-boosting techniques.
So in calling it "improper," I should clarify that I don't mean a negative connotation to come with it--just that the rules of the English language are being manipulated to accommodate the circumstances, and that things will naturally be lost in translation.
I think the evolution of language towards contextual efficiency might be beneficial (if the goal is to provide as much of a good or service as possible to people), but it's important not to forget the world we live in--where two people can encounter one another who may never have been able to do so in the past. This includes the talented young Mr. Shahidi. Our language has to remember its roots in order to adapt to people who speak English as an alternative language. Otherwise, others like him may never soundly develop a connection with American culture.
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