One very important thought
Today, Belinda and I went to the Orient. Little did we know, it was to be a dark, tumultuous journey into the heart of awkwardness itself, in which we would narrowly escape solely by the altruism and trust of one sprightly, happy fellow.
Part 1
AS we stepped into the doors, I immediately noticed that there was a new worker. This is noteworthy because The Orient is humbly staffed by, more or less, five people. Happy Guy, Old Dude, Quiet Lady, and Nancy--with guest appearances by Weird Guy. However, to my utter surprise, this new worker was Zoe B. I knew Zoe B in high school. About three years ago, Zoe B screamed at me in front of a Kinkos because I screamed at someone at the Sunflower House. I distinctly remember her stalking up to me, finger already pointed, screaming, "yooooou BASTARD!" This comment needed no further explanation, so we just parted our ways after that. To my knowledge, that was the last time Zoe B and I "spoke."
After noticing her, I averted my eyes from her general direction and quickly mumbled to Belinda for identity confirmation. Before Belinda could mumble back, I hear "Pat!"
Oh lord.
"Pat, is that you?"
"Yeah! Hey!" I said. "How's it going?"
"Good. How's it going with you?"
"Good."
Alright! So far, so good, right? Now to nonchalantly slide into lighthearted small talk.
"So," I said. "You work here now?"
"No, I just hang around behind the counter for no reason and hold trays of food."
I think I laughed. I don't know. I can stand a bit of jocular banter with just about anyone, but not those who have graced my mortal enemies list. I was ready to abort. Even though I've been eating at the Orient for nigh-on two years now and have really only ordered two things from the menu, I just stared at it as though I had never been there before in my life.
I, of course, got the Three Star Happy Dish, hoping it would cheer me up. Belinda ordered the Tofu Curry, which is the Three-Star Happy Dish sans veggie chicken. With our food ordered, it seemed like our awkward moment was coming to an end. But no one could have prepared for what happened next.
Part 2
I opened my wallet and--to my shock--couldn't find my credit card. Since we live in the future now, all of my financial transactions hinge upon a 1/16" inch thick piece of plastic. Of course, when I lose this sliver of plastic, I'm screwed.
This sparked a bit of a hub-bub, which was only partially in English. Phong (more commonly known as "Happy Guy") literally threw up his hands and said, "Don't worry! Don't worry! I see you all the time. You pay next time, yes?"
This caused Nancy, the owner, to turn to Phong and say something in Vietnamese. I don't know Vietnamese. I don't know what happy or sad or upset or anything else is supposed to sound in Vietnamese. But I would characterize Nancy's body language and tone as "perturbed."
Phong responded with more hand throwing and Vietnamese. This seemed to settle the interchange. Phong turned to me said, "It OK! You pay later." He then grabbed his wallet and pulled out a hundred. "No no no no no no!" I babbled. Phong babbled, "It ok! It ok! Don't worry! It ok!" After a bit more babbling, he covered me. Out of his own pocket.
I have never felt closer to Happy Guy. If I ever work at a medium-priced, Vietnamese restaurant, and Phong couldn't pay for his meal, you can bet that I would do the same for him.
What a guy. What an odyssey. We were seated next to a table full of our old teachers from high school. We considered striking up a conversation with them, but we figured two excruciatingly awkward and weird encounters were enough for one meal. Luckily, none of them recognized us or cared enough to say anything.
Part 1
AS we stepped into the doors, I immediately noticed that there was a new worker. This is noteworthy because The Orient is humbly staffed by, more or less, five people. Happy Guy, Old Dude, Quiet Lady, and Nancy--with guest appearances by Weird Guy. However, to my utter surprise, this new worker was Zoe B. I knew Zoe B in high school. About three years ago, Zoe B screamed at me in front of a Kinkos because I screamed at someone at the Sunflower House. I distinctly remember her stalking up to me, finger already pointed, screaming, "yooooou BASTARD!" This comment needed no further explanation, so we just parted our ways after that. To my knowledge, that was the last time Zoe B and I "spoke."
After noticing her, I averted my eyes from her general direction and quickly mumbled to Belinda for identity confirmation. Before Belinda could mumble back, I hear "Pat!"
Oh lord.
"Pat, is that you?"
"Yeah! Hey!" I said. "How's it going?"
"Good. How's it going with you?"
"Good."
Alright! So far, so good, right? Now to nonchalantly slide into lighthearted small talk.
"So," I said. "You work here now?"
"No, I just hang around behind the counter for no reason and hold trays of food."
I think I laughed. I don't know. I can stand a bit of jocular banter with just about anyone, but not those who have graced my mortal enemies list. I was ready to abort. Even though I've been eating at the Orient for nigh-on two years now and have really only ordered two things from the menu, I just stared at it as though I had never been there before in my life.
I, of course, got the Three Star Happy Dish, hoping it would cheer me up. Belinda ordered the Tofu Curry, which is the Three-Star Happy Dish sans veggie chicken. With our food ordered, it seemed like our awkward moment was coming to an end. But no one could have prepared for what happened next.
Part 2
I opened my wallet and--to my shock--couldn't find my credit card. Since we live in the future now, all of my financial transactions hinge upon a 1/16" inch thick piece of plastic. Of course, when I lose this sliver of plastic, I'm screwed.
This sparked a bit of a hub-bub, which was only partially in English. Phong (more commonly known as "Happy Guy") literally threw up his hands and said, "Don't worry! Don't worry! I see you all the time. You pay next time, yes?"
This caused Nancy, the owner, to turn to Phong and say something in Vietnamese. I don't know Vietnamese. I don't know what happy or sad or upset or anything else is supposed to sound in Vietnamese. But I would characterize Nancy's body language and tone as "perturbed."
Phong responded with more hand throwing and Vietnamese. This seemed to settle the interchange. Phong turned to me said, "It OK! You pay later." He then grabbed his wallet and pulled out a hundred. "No no no no no no!" I babbled. Phong babbled, "It ok! It ok! Don't worry! It ok!" After a bit more babbling, he covered me. Out of his own pocket.
I have never felt closer to Happy Guy. If I ever work at a medium-priced, Vietnamese restaurant, and Phong couldn't pay for his meal, you can bet that I would do the same for him.
What a guy. What an odyssey. We were seated next to a table full of our old teachers from high school. We considered striking up a conversation with them, but we figured two excruciatingly awkward and weird encounters were enough for one meal. Luckily, none of them recognized us or cared enough to say anything.