That Translation Doesn’t Cut The Mustard

I was a tourist visiting Spain with a large tour group from the US. One morning at the hotel’s breakfast buffet, one of my fellow tourists started yelling at a staff member.

Tourist: “Mustardo!”

The staff member looked very confused. Annoyed about the delay and about someone in my group making us look bad, I spoke to him in English.

Me: “What do you want?”

Tourist: “Mustard. I’m trying to make a sandwich.”

Me: “That’s not the word for mustard in their language. Or any language. Ugh, you’re making us all look bad.”

I pulled out my phone and opened the Google Translate app.

Me: “It’s mostaza.”

It turns out they did not have mustard at this hotel, anyway.