When I was a child, I played piano in concerts, featured with a bunch of the other local kids and piano teachers from the area. After each of my concerts, a man who was the father of another student around my age would come up to me, shake my hand and say in broken accent, "You were flawless."
The second time I saw him after a concert, he said again, "You were flawless." And a third. "Flawless."
In the beginning I was quite flattered, but after a while I began to think that "flawless" was the only word he knew. So one time after a concert, he came up to me and told me I was "flawless." I said, "No. You're son is flawless."
He said to me, "No. He worse than that. He's terrible."

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