What is wrong with you people?! (Or to be less PC – what is wong with you people?!)
I swear to everything holy that the people at the “CHINA PALACE” assign jobs by this method (also popular at other Asian establishments):
Boss: “OK, who can’t speak or understand English? Alright, you’re the telephone guy. Who’s new to the country and doesn’t know north from south? OK, you’re doing deliveries.”
I mean, for cryin’ out loud, people! How hard is it to take a phone number?!
Me: “5…5…5…-…6…1…0…0”
Him: “OK, five…what next?”
Me: “5…5…5…-…6…1…0…0”
Him: “OK, five, five…what next?”
Me: “5…5…5…-…6…1…0…0”
Him: “OK, five, five, five…what next?”
Me: “5…5…5…-…6…1…0…0”
Him: “OK, five, five, five, seven?”
Me: “No, not seven. 5…5…5…-…6…1…0…0”
Him: “Not seven?”
Me: “FOR THE LOVE OF GOD JUST WRITE DOWN ANY DAMN NUMBER!! WRITE DOWN YOUR PHONE NUMBER! I DON’T CARE!!”
Him: “Not seven?”
Me: “Yes, seven is my phone number. If you want to call me, press seven.”
Now, after the phone number debacle of ’02, I still have to order.
Me: “OK, order?”
Him: “Yes, OK, order.”
Me: “I would like chicken and mushrooms.”
Him: “OK.”
Me: “I would also like garlic chicken and rice.”
Him: “OK.”
Me: “OK. That’s it.”
Him: “OK, what do you order?”
Me: “Chicken & mushrooms and garlic chicken with rice.”
Him: “OK. What number?”
Me: “I DON”T CARE. JUST BRING ME FOOD. ANY FOOD — WHATEVER YOU CAN SPELL OR CIRCLE ON THE MENU. JUST BRING ME SOME FOOD!!”
Later, I had to give my address – which nearly inspired me to pay them to let me come pick up the food.
The whole time, my supportive wife is just rolling on the floor laughing — trying to imitate what she thinks the guy might be saying.
Needless to say, this is the last night I cook for a while.