When dining with co-workers, I try to loosely monitor our behavior as a group. Often these are people I don’t know beyond the confines of the office and there’s no way to anticipate how they’ll behave in public. For example, I’ve observed seemingly friendly art directors be incredible butt holes to servers, cool account guys drop f-bombs like it’s the coolest fucking word they know and high-level, well-compensated creative directors “forget” to tip.
A few weeks back, we gathered a few folks at the office and made a plan to go out to lunch. When we arrived at the restaurant, we were seated right next to what appeared to be a family reunion. Adults of all ages and lots of kids. Five minutes in, I noticed there was a smattering of loud cussing coming from our table. I considered an intervention as I momentarily shifted my attention to the family siting nearby.
“Damn, that little motherfucker ate a lot. Shit,” one of the father-type individuals said, pointing at one of the babies in a high chair.
At that point, I decided our profanity probably wasn’t going to bother any of the motherfuckers sitting nearby.