The Language Barrier

Last weekend Janelle and I went to a local family owned Italian restaurant that we love. We ordered our drinks and while perusing the menu, our ears perked up when we heard some crude banter in the kitchen from the cooks. It was an open kitchen, so their conversation penetrated into the dining hall with little impediment. The problem was that within a few minutes, they were using what I will call the “mother and father” of cuss words profusely. Within moments our waitress arrived at our table to take our order and I politely told her that we wouldn’t be eating there today. That the language gushing out of the kitchen was inappropriate. That there was a small child in the room, but frankly, I was offended and I am a grown man. Unless you work in a ship yard, it just not appropriate to use that kind of banter in the workplace, much less when it is in earshot of the customer. That I have worked at restaurants long enough to understand that you don’t make negative remarks about the cooks and stay and eat too. So we would be leaving because I am definitely not going to pay for that kind of experience….and we left. On our way out, some other customers expressed their thanks for saying something and I am glad we did.
Before I get on a high horse, let me confess that I am no stranger to using strong language. I like to think of words as different hues of paint on a large palette, and sometimes you just need a strong color to convey what you are trying to say (when heck, darn, and golly doesn’t quite do it), but there IS a time and place for it. When did that etiquette get tossed to the side? When did it become ok to throw around these harsh words anywhere and anytime you want?
One day the poop is going to hit the fan the next time I am at a gas station with my family and some punk kid pulls up blaring his rap music which seems to think that the “f bomb” is the only adjective in the English language.