Then looks at you like you're a cnut and mutters something "farang" before storming off; all because you've had the temerity to expect a waiter in the Thai restaurant business to do their job properly.
Why shouldn't I be able to stand around playing on my phone, picking my nose and fucking up orders? Go home farang! You go! You go! You goooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!
Although I'll add that an experience at the ticket counter at Ekkamai over Christmas managed to plumb depths even lower than the restaurant industry.
Me. I want to go to Ban Phe.
Her. 200 baht.
Me. Two please (passing over the 1000 baht note).
Her. No hab! No hab! No hab (trying to return the note)!
Me. I can see the money there (pointing at the wedge of 500s, 100s and 20s inside the plastic jar she's nursing).
Her. No hab! No hab! No hab! You go buy water. You go! You go! You goooooooooooooooooooo!
Me. A water is 20 baht. I have 1000. This doesn't make sense.
Her. No hab! No hab! No hab! You go buy water. You go! You go! You goooooooooooooooooooo!
Me. Why don't you ask the people next to you?
Her. No hab! No hab! No hab! You go buy water. You go! You go! You goooooooooooooooooooo!
And so it continued with the peasant screeching at me for 3 minutes instead of taking the money until she finally decided that she did have the change and would give me the 600 baht.
From. Her. Fucking. Jar.



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