A Case of Mistaken Identity

It seems that some of the funniest stories are the ones we can't make up. Now, I don't know if this qualifies as one of them, but it sure gave my family a lot of ammunition to mock me at dinner last night...

Four years ago, at the end of my junior year in high school, I went on a 10-day "study abroad" trip to France with my French class. I stayed alone with a host family in Aix-en-Provence for a week, then met up with my class in Paris for our last three days. As my first trip to a foreign country combined with my high-school level French, a language faux pas was bound to happen. And happen it did.

One of the first mornings with my family we were getting to know each other over breakfast. My mother was asking me about my own family and inquired about what my dad did for his work. Now, my dad is a banker, and I had learned the word in French before, but I just couldn't remember it. My mother knew a little English so I asked her what the French word for banker was. She replied that it was a "boulanger," which is, in fact, French for baker. 


{Note the similarity in English between the word 'banker' and 'baker'}

I realized immediately that something sounded wrong about that, but I was still very self-conscious and unsure of my French at the time, so I assumed that that must be the right word. So, I allowed the conversation to go on...and on....and on....

"Oh he's a baker? What kind of baker?"
"Well, he's a commercial baker, for a company"
"What does he bake?"

[At this point I did understand what she was asking, but all I could think was that was a strange transition in conversation––from occupation to what does my dad make us...]

"Umm, well he mostly just makes us pancakes and breakfast foods. Sometimes bread and stuff..."

I figured out pretty soon that I had made a mistake, but I had allowed the charade to continue so far, that I was too embarrassed to correct her. Thus, my host family believed that my dad was a baker for the next two days. They would make little comments about my dad and his baking and I would just respond as best I could, without correcting them. 

Eventually though I couldn't keep it up. I felt too guilty and, in spite of absolute embarrassment,
I decided I had to tell them the truth...

My mother was just chatting with me and made a comment about my dad and I paused, and said, "Oh, I think I made a mistake...my dad is a banker, not a baker...I was confused..." I probably sounded like an idiot (I know I felt like one) but at least it cleared up the case of my dad's mistaken identity.

One thing I did learn is that lying really is a hassle––even unintentional dishonesty. It's always better to be up front or it can cause acute embarrassment later on. Luckily, that was probably the biggest faux pas I committed on my trip, and I have been careful not to repeat that mistake again.