Objectionable types

I am spending too much time at Mum's shop, and getting to know the regulars perhaps better than I need to know anyone.

Mum now gets me to serve every night. I fetch customers beers and soft drink. I fill their ice bucket, take their money, give them change. Sometimes I even get to drink with them, just like a real patron.

From drinking with customers, I have learned to identify three kinds of young Thais I find hard to bear.

1. The type who shows off his English skills to his friends, which are always more limited than he lets on.

He will drop English phrases into Thai conversations, especially if a farang is in earshot. Even worse is when he insists on spoonfeeding the farang with words his friends have just said in Thai.

At Mum's shop, I had to put one of these boys in his place the other night.

'If you want to talk in English, why don't you start talking to me? Don't sit there dropping phrases into other people's conversation. It's annoying.'

'What...what?' he asked.

I repeated it, again speaking in English.

'What?'

A little ear training needed there, I think.

Later, he revealed that he was studying English and French at university. I asked him to speak French, but he was too shy.

'Then why bother learning?' I asked.

Mum dislikes boastful types, and gave me a satisfied look when I laid into him with my English. Really, I'd rather not do it - but the alternative was sitting there listening to him show off all night, so I ended it while I still had some patience.

This is how a friend introduced us: 'He is excellent at English. Just ask him anything.' I am suspicious of such types, so said nothing.

Silent greetings are rude. Later I reprimanded myself: I should at least have said hello.

Still, I was right to be wary. One young man in his group must have heard it all before, and was annoyed by his constant smart-alec interjections. 'Shall I kick his head?' he asked. I was too polite to reply.

2. The guitar virtuoso - God's gift to the instrument.

I have met two of these lately. One young man wore expensive-looking shades and long army-style shorts. When the guitar came out of its case, he took over for the night. He played the guitar for hours without a break. It was his weapon for drawing admiration and praise, so no surprises there.

'Name any song, he can play it,' a boy in his drinking circle told me admiringly. How familiar that sounds! Why are the friends of these so-called experts so easily taken in?

The other guitar player was less painful personally, and more attractive to look at, which is always a bonus.

Like almost everyone in his drinking group, he wore his hair long, tied behind his head, which showed off the soft features of his face.

I suspect these boys are trying out the Hippy look, Thai style. They are all 'real' men, with dirty finger nails, but long hair pulled back in buns, and pretty, cherubic faces. What a contrast.

Like Mr Shades, Mr Long Hair knew many songs, but his playing was rough.These boys start out as party guitar players, strumming Loso songs, then branch out into Western songs before finally becoming the next Jimi Hendrix. The transition is not always smooth.

'Do you know Hotel California?' Mr Long Hair asked.

He meant, do I know the wordy lyrics to that lengthy ballad. No. I do not carry songs around in my head, as the space up there is too limited.

Help was at hand. Mr English Expert was drinking in the same group, and jumped in to supply the lyrics to many Western songs which I had forgotten.

When he wanted a break, Mr Long Hair asked me to play. Mistake! I rarely play any more, and sound even worse when I have been drinking.

'How long did you say you've been playing...15 years? I have been playing just 12 months,' he boasted, as he took the instrument back.

I felt humiliated, and wanted to kick myself. I will never pick up a guitar again in front of these types, pretty or not.

3. The type who asks you where you come from, what you do and where you live every time you meet. Oh, and how many years you've been in Thailand.

The old taxi driver routine, except it's coming from friends, people who you think would know such things by now.

Someone put me through this painful routine last night. I have known him for more than two years, and answered the same questions for him only two weeks ago. Still, at least he can remember my name. I have never bothered to memorise his, probably because we are not close.

Last time, he asked me to find out the cost of the scent I was wearing, and whether I could buy some for him.

I didn't know the price, as the boyfriend bought it for me. I asked Maiyuu on his behalf, and last night gave him his answer: 'B1,500.'

That's expensive for most Thais. In fact, I was surprised to find out myself that Maiuyuu had been spending our money so freely on pricey scents.

As soon as I told him the price, I could see the boy working on a face-saving explanation as to why he would not be able to buy it after all.

'I have just bought a similar scent at Chatuchak market.'

A Thai Lie, if ever I heard one.

Then we went back to our usual conversation: 'Where do you come from? What do you do?'

I am thinking of hanging a sign around my neck: 'If you have to ask, then you don't need to know.'

Either that, or I shall refer Mr Forgetfuls to the shop's owner, Mum. She can answer their repetitive questions for me.

That shall be the price of my labour, if I am to serve customers who try my patience. In return, I shall learn better self-preservation techniques, and try to hold my tongue.