A long time ago, there was a dinner in my dad's honor for some kind of service he rendered. All the people at the dinner were insanely wealthy and probably had someone on payroll to peel their grapes.
My parents live comfortably, but we don't fit into this lifestyle. I'm kind of grateful for that because these people tend to lose touch with reality.
Anyway, I guess in rich people circles, if a man has a dinner in his honor, everyone attending takes their cues from his wife. If one of the courses comes out, they all pick up their forks after she does. She is the one to start everything off, and everyone follows her lead.
This meal had a bunch of courses, and my mom, a fruit picker's daughter from Oklahoma, felt a little out of her league. Everything was going smoothly until the server placed a bowl of clear liquid in front of her. She panicked because there were no more spoons left at her place setting. She couldn't figure out what to do, and she knew everyone was waiting for her to make the first move. So, she did the first thing she could think of, she picked up the bowl in her hands and took a sip.
... It was water. She had just taken a sip from the finger bowl meant to be used to wash her hands. The whole room was polite, though, and every single person picked up their own finger bowl and took a sip.
She was mortified when she found out what she was actually supposed to do with it.