Foot, meet mouth

I’ve been known to stick my foot in my mouth the odd time, and without much social interaction over the past year I was due to say something really stupid now that things are opening up. So earlier tonight I walked into a Starbucks about five minutes before closing time and patiently observed the barista while I waited in line. He was about my age and just as follicly challenged, although he did his best to hide it. I knew they’d be out of pre-brewed dark roast at that late hour so when it came time to order I asked, “Can you make a comb-over? Pour over. I mean pour over.” The damage was done. It’s hard to walk that one back.

4 Responses to “Foot, meet mouth”

  1. Greg Unger

    Hi Mike! That’s funny. If it was me, now of the follicularly challenged sect, I’d have replied, “Comb WHAT over?”

    I recall my own hoof in mouth example leading to my exit from Woodbine: Late into a shift watching live racing feeds from about a dozen different tracks—some more professionally produced than others—I was frustrated trying to follow the field at one of the small harness tracks. Maybe it was Kawartha or Rideau. It was a zoom shot and the frame was shaking erratically over my monitor screen. I couldn’t make out the numbers on the saddle pads or tell who was leading.

    As you know, there is no Don Cherry 5-second delay in live racing, and I said, “That camera man must have Parkinsons.”

    Can’t walk that back. (They made me do an over the top apology before firing me.)

    What I should have said was, “I think the camera man is a hummingbird after two double espressos!”

    …bringing the whole story back to Starbucks.

    All the best Mike.

    Greg Unger


    • Mike Hamilton

      Great to hear from you, Greg. I had forgotten about the circumstances surrounding your ”departure” from Woodbine but it’s all coming back now. I’m glad you can joke about it. I think it’s safe to say we were all at the mercy of a good audio switcher who saved us from hot mics on many an occasion.


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