Have you noticed how much time we spend in wishful thinking? You know how it goes: I wish I could speak a couple of languages; I wish I could play a musical instrument; I wish I was more ambitious and had gone for that last job. If I had my life to live all over again, what changes would I make?
If I could speak a couple of languages reasonably fluently, it would save me making a fool of myself in France or Spain while on holidays or on business. I envy people with a good grasp of languages. It's such a superb advantage.
Operating without fluency in a foreign language can add hours of frustration to a trip abroad and can drain you physically and mentally. You begin reacting like the British who usually snap, "Why can't these damn people speak English like us." I don't believe in this business of pulling a pocket dictionary out of my pocket every time I want to know where the bus stop or the taxi rank is located. You just look damn stupid. I'd rather bluster my way through and hope to God that some English-speaking person pops up before the conversation gets too stressful (one usually does, thank goodness).
Blame the teacher
I admire people who can drop into any country and effortlessly waffle away in the local lingo. It's a great gift, but one that wasn't bestowed on me. Each year for the past 20 or so, I've thought about taking lessons, but it never comes to anything. I started studying French in school, but then had a difference of opinion with my teacher and opted out. I now blame that teacher for my lack of an extra language. Every time I'm in difficulties abroad I have a vision of that teacher again. It's always nice to have a scapegoat in this life. It's never your own fault.
My lack of French had very embarrassing results in Strasbourg recently. I had had a very busy day and it was 12 hours since I had eaten. I went into a restaurant and perused the menu. It was gobbledegook to me, but I saw entrecote on it. Great, that means steak. I ordered the meal with a great flourish - a real man of the world, that's me - and then sat back and waited with my tongue hanging out.
It was a disaster. The meat was like leather. The problem was that I hadn't been able to make out the other French words on the menu . . . I had tried to eat a horse steak . . . After two mouthfuls, I had to make my apologies and leave. It was conclusive proof that a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. The experience still haunts me.
Stupid, linguistically-dead colleagues of mine have had similar nerve-shattering experiences. I still laugh when I think of a friend who thought he could speak reasonably good Italian. He was in his hotel in Rome a few years ago and wanted to find out the time of the next plane back to Ireland. He found his pigeon-Italian useless. Nobody could understand him. He had to resort to gliding around the room, flapping his arms, pretending he was a plane, and pointing at his watch.
Showing off in Spain
Then there was another old colleague who went to Spain on an assignment. He fancied he knew it all. He had been in Spain a few times and boasted there was nothing he didn't know about the place. Showing off to his friends at dinner, he pointed out something on the menu to the waiter. The waiter asked sir if he was sure that that was what he wanted. "Sure I'm sure," he replied with disdain.
He had to wait for a long time for his meal . . . Eventually, a huge fish - about five foot long, a mini-shark - arrived at the table, carried by two waiters, staggering under its weight. My friend's jaw dropped and his companions doubled up with laughter.
After that fiasco, he lost all credibility as an experienced international traveller. When he returned to Ireland, he had one hell of a row with his boss who, understandably, wasn't anxious to sign his expenses for the big fish.
Many of us wish we could play a musical instrument. A basic understanding of how to play a few notes on a piano or a guitar would be a wonderful social asset. Even if I wasn't a Phil Coulter, it would make me the centre of attraction at every party. My dexterity on the ivories could equip me to lead every sing-song. My peers would then see quite clearly how talented I actually am. There were lessons on how to play the violin when I was at school, but I stayed well clear of them. I had no ambition to play in the RTE symphony orchestra, or any orchestra for that matter. But I believe everyone should know how to play some musical instrument. It makes you a much more rounded and cultured person. A knowledge of music is good for your self-esteem. So far, the only instrument I have learned to play is the paper and comb.
Boring existences
Then we have the people who spend their lives wishing they had "gone for that last interview" and got that highly-paid job. They think their lives could have taken a different direction and be a lot more interesting and challenging than their present boring existences. If they had shown more courage and ambition they could be millionaires today. "I mean, look at Mick; he hadn't a brain in his head and he owns half the property in the town," they moan. Many of these people grabbed the first job that came along after they left school and they are now stuck with it. They spend the rest of their lives wishing they had done something else.
They remember other jobs that they could have got if only they had been luckier. They look around and see their friends in better jobs, with more money, car supplied etc, and wish it was them. There is nothing worse than being a square peg in a round hole. They torture themselves thinking why they didn't take their chances.
There is something very sad about people who go into jobs they are not suited to and spend decades in misery, ending up full of self-pity. As the years go by they become more trapped because there is less chance of getting out of their predicament. Nowadays, a young person has a better chance as there are plenty of good career guidance teachers and courses available. At least it cuts out a lot of the chances of making wrong decisions and spending a lifetime in wishful thinking.