A handsome young Japanese man sat himself at Mum's shop bar the other night. His hooded eyes were beautiful, and of course I told him so - though we were talking about the difference between Koreans and Japanese, so it must have seemed an innocent remark.
When he arrived at the shop, I heard him order a beer in stumbling tones, so I knew he was not Thai. He sat himself away from my farang friend and me, but I could tell he wanted to talk - why else sit at a strange bar? I asked my farang friend to invite him over and start talking, while I served customers.
Mum has been asking me to serve, while she steps away to the toilet, or visits her home nearby. 'Just watch over the shop, you don't have to sell anything,' she says emphatically. Mum does not like me selling goods, because I mess up her orders.
Mum's shop is perched at the mouth of a soi, and opens on two sides. If she is busy with customers on one side, she might ask me to fetch something for customers waiting on my side. She might call out: 'Pepsi, poured over ice.'
I can fetch that, because I have done it before, and don't have to think. However, last night she called out: 'Pepsi, two large bottles in a bag.'
I didn't know she sold Pepsi in large bottles, so thought she meant the regular kind. 'In a bag' - well, she must mean poured over ice, right, the way most customers like it?'
No. She did indeed sell Pepsi in large plastic bottles, not the little glass returnable ones I am used to seeing. I just didn't know where she kept them. And she did in fact want them placed in a bag, not opened, with the contents poured over ice.
More embarrassment for me, as Mum had another few baht lopped off her profit margin.
I was talking to a young Thai friend before I helped her serve. Gap is a regular, whom I have known for several years. As a member of Mum's extended 'family,' he likes to look after me - offering me occasional advice on this or that Thai newcomer at the shop, not all of whom come with good intentions.
In a loud voice which could be heard by any passers-by, Mum filled him in about the many times she has asked me for one thing, only to get another. 'I ask him for this or that, but I always get Pepsi over ice!'
Gap looked embarrassed, but came up with a face-saving explanation. 'You just set out to do different things.'
Late last night, Mum asked me to place some empty plastic water bottles in the rubbish. 'This must have something to do with Pepsi, too,' I joked.
I can do some things passably well. I can sell cigarettes by the packet, or even by the bag, where I take out four cigarettes from the packet and place them in a little plastic bag for customers who do not have enough money to buy a whole packet.
One of my most recent tasks is to take a broom and sweep the spiderwebs off the neon strip lights above the bar.
At that hour of the night, the spiders have come out to make their new webs for the day. While sweeping them down, I have to make sure no spiders fall in my own drink, of course.
When Thais approach the shop and see me sitting there, they do not wonder any more why a farang is selling goods, and not a Thai. They just want to be served, so don't care who does it. But the job is not as easy as it looks, especially for someone as vague as I am.
On the night the Japanese youngster visited, I was called away to serve, and did not get much of a chance to talk. He could not understand my accent anyway, so I had to call on my farang friend to explain.
Farang M comes from a rough part of London, but Mr Japan seemed to understand him well enough. I come from a British colony, where we also speak the Queen's English, but he could barely get a word of what I said.
'God, what's happened to your English?' said farang M, exasperated.
Mr Japan, who has been here a few months, had just broken up with his Thai girlfriend. He was tall, broad, and wore a sports cap. 'Thai girls like Koreans more than Japanese,' he said sadly.
I hope he comes back again. Mr Japan was the best looking non-Thai Asian I have seen in these parts for a while.
Now, if I can just get the hang of those Pepsi orders...
When he arrived at the shop, I heard him order a beer in stumbling tones, so I knew he was not Thai. He sat himself away from my farang friend and me, but I could tell he wanted to talk - why else sit at a strange bar? I asked my farang friend to invite him over and start talking, while I served customers.
Mum has been asking me to serve, while she steps away to the toilet, or visits her home nearby. 'Just watch over the shop, you don't have to sell anything,' she says emphatically. Mum does not like me selling goods, because I mess up her orders.
Mum's shop is perched at the mouth of a soi, and opens on two sides. If she is busy with customers on one side, she might ask me to fetch something for customers waiting on my side. She might call out: 'Pepsi, poured over ice.'
I can fetch that, because I have done it before, and don't have to think. However, last night she called out: 'Pepsi, two large bottles in a bag.'
I didn't know she sold Pepsi in large bottles, so thought she meant the regular kind. 'In a bag' - well, she must mean poured over ice, right, the way most customers like it?'
No. She did indeed sell Pepsi in large plastic bottles, not the little glass returnable ones I am used to seeing. I just didn't know where she kept them. And she did in fact want them placed in a bag, not opened, with the contents poured over ice.
More embarrassment for me, as Mum had another few baht lopped off her profit margin.
I was talking to a young Thai friend before I helped her serve. Gap is a regular, whom I have known for several years. As a member of Mum's extended 'family,' he likes to look after me - offering me occasional advice on this or that Thai newcomer at the shop, not all of whom come with good intentions.
In a loud voice which could be heard by any passers-by, Mum filled him in about the many times she has asked me for one thing, only to get another. 'I ask him for this or that, but I always get Pepsi over ice!'
Gap looked embarrassed, but came up with a face-saving explanation. 'You just set out to do different things.'
Late last night, Mum asked me to place some empty plastic water bottles in the rubbish. 'This must have something to do with Pepsi, too,' I joked.
I can do some things passably well. I can sell cigarettes by the packet, or even by the bag, where I take out four cigarettes from the packet and place them in a little plastic bag for customers who do not have enough money to buy a whole packet.
One of my most recent tasks is to take a broom and sweep the spiderwebs off the neon strip lights above the bar.
At that hour of the night, the spiders have come out to make their new webs for the day. While sweeping them down, I have to make sure no spiders fall in my own drink, of course.
When Thais approach the shop and see me sitting there, they do not wonder any more why a farang is selling goods, and not a Thai. They just want to be served, so don't care who does it. But the job is not as easy as it looks, especially for someone as vague as I am.
On the night the Japanese youngster visited, I was called away to serve, and did not get much of a chance to talk. He could not understand my accent anyway, so I had to call on my farang friend to explain.
Farang M comes from a rough part of London, but Mr Japan seemed to understand him well enough. I come from a British colony, where we also speak the Queen's English, but he could barely get a word of what I said.
'God, what's happened to your English?' said farang M, exasperated.
Mr Japan, who has been here a few months, had just broken up with his Thai girlfriend. He was tall, broad, and wore a sports cap. 'Thai girls like Koreans more than Japanese,' he said sadly.
I hope he comes back again. Mr Japan was the best looking non-Thai Asian I have seen in these parts for a while.
Now, if I can just get the hang of those Pepsi orders...
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