faux pas–noun, plural faux pas /foʊ ˈpɑz; Fr. foʊ ˈpɑ/ Show Spelled
[foh pahz; Fr. foh pah] .
a slip or blunder in etiquette, manners, or conduct; an embarrassing social blunder or indiscretion.
With the Best Intentions - a true incident by Dave Deming
It was early in my career at a major telecommunications firm. I had gotten along quite famously with my supervisor and, consequently, reaped many benefits due to his high regard for me. He chose me to handle some of the most important accounts. He recommended me for quite a few prestigious sales awards. He was a great supervisor, and I was understandably upset when he announced his departure. It meant I would be getting a new supervisor.
Would the new supervisor recognize my talents? Would the new supervisor inure to me the same benefits I had learned to expect? Would I continue to receive the same choice account assignments? I knew I would have to get on his good side as soon as I could in order to elevate my status above that of my peers.
At first, I was unsure. I had learned that he was an ex-warden at a famous Arkansas prison (the one made famous by the movie, “Brubaker” starring Robert Redford). In fact, I was told he was the warden immediately before the Brubaker character and was forced to resign because of his cruel treatment of prisoners as portrayed in the movie. I never really learned if this was true, but I believed it at the time. It was indeed cause for concern. How would I be treated? Images of solitary confinement in low level, closet sized rooms as punishment for poor sales or simply his ill regard filled my head. I was certain I wouldn’t suffer physical torture, but I did consider the possibility of mental “whippings” and psychological beatings with blunt instruments.
But then it appeared good fortune was in my immediate future. This man, it seemed, was anxious to “win over” his new staff. He had scheduled a dinner for his new crew and also planned on taking us all to an upcoming ball game. These were social situations with which I was quite familiar and confident in my ability to perform well. I felt I could truly shine in such settings and induce a reaction from him that would be more comparable to a favored “prison guard” rather than a hardened, ill behaved prisoner.
His first day as my new supervisor had gone well and I and my colleagues were looking forward to a nice dinner with him and his wife. That evening, immediately after work, we were all sitting down at a very posh restaurant and I was remembering to be the consummate gentleman. I waited until all the women in our group were seated and, of course, was last to sit down after his lovely wife was seated. I complimented her several times on her stunning dress and even gave notice to her stylish purse. The new boss was smiling. I felt I may already be “in.” He ordered drinks for all of us and I waited until she received hers, complete with large pieces of fruit and a multi-colored umbrella, before I took a single sip of my beer. No guzzling tonight! Suddenly, the waiter came up to our table and asked for me by name announcing that there was an urgent phone call for me. I politely excused myself and proceeded out to the main foyer to take the call. It was my wife. “Could you pick up a gallon of milk on the way home?” she asked. “Of course”, I said with hidden irritation. “And, oh yes,” she said, “We also need some bread, eggs and a package of yeast.” I asked, “Do I need to make a list?” She said that I should surely remember those few things. “I should put them on a list” I thought as I hung up. Of all the times to be interrupted!
I went immediately back to the group and, sitting down, wondered if, in my relatively short absence, I had missed any opportunities to make a good impression on my new boss. Looking to make quality conversation, I noticed the boss’s wife routing through her purse, obviously searching for something in the depths of a sack large enough to hold a medium size dog. “What are you looking for?” I asked. I heard her answer, “Something to put on my list.”
Thinking of the phone call I had just received, I said “Well... I’ve got something you can put on your list!” This could be a good conversation, I was thinking. But as soon as I had finished speaking, my new boss looked at me like a warden looking at a two-time lifer, “I can’t believe you said that, Deming.”
What? I thought. I froze as I saw his wife pull a tube of lipstick from her purse. I suddenly realized the word “list” could and apparently did sound very much like the word, “lips.” Oh my God! What have I done! I tried desperately to explain myself, but to this day, I’m certain only I understood what I actually said and meant. I could not un-ring the fatal bell. I had just made a pornographically obscene “come on” to the warden’s wife! I was sunk with no chance of resurfacing. As I finished choking down what food I could still eat, I couldn’t help but notice the winks and smiles I was covertly receiving from his wife. Well, I guess I did leave a “stand-out” impression with the new boss.
The ball game to which he was bringing the entire group was the very next evening. A chance for some form of redemption? I hoped. I truly hoped.
Actually, the evening progressed rather safely. There were not enough seats for all of us to sit together and so the boss and his wife sat in a different section to enjoy the ball game. I sat with my peers and listened, red-faced, to their jibes as they recalled the previous evening… over and over again.
My new boss and his wife were newly-weds and, her roots in St. Louis were the primary cause for his relocation from Arkansas. Despite my recent nightmares about him and, in my dreams, his uncanny resemblance to a tyrannosaurus, she apparently thought of him as quite handsome… a lucky catch. I approached them during the seventh inning stretch, still hoping I could induce a conversation to show I was not the lewd and rude subordinate that the last evening seemed to indicate.
“Enjoying the game?” I asked. The wife responded, “Yes, but all of these girls kept approaching my husband… I think they were trying to steal him away!” Like the “list” of the previous evening, words escaped my “lips” before I had truly considered them. I said, “Did you have to beat “em” off?” Of course I was referring to “all the girls” that had approached him. And, of course, they both thought I meant something completely different. She smiled at me. He didn’t.
He was my supervisor for the next six months after which I received a promotion. I think he may have instigated the promotion, but not for the reasons I had originally intended. I saw him occasionally after that, though we seldom spoke. Our work environment was such that I could almost always find a different aisle to walk when I noticed his approach. I never saw his wife again. 
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