so i just ordered chinese food, on 4th ave in brooklyn. not some swank manhattan place with tons of orchids or something pretty like bamboo sitting around somewhere, but instead the same exact greasy chinese food place we all grew up going to. the type in the suburbs where the workers sadly have to repeat simple words all day long, bc the living-in-a-bubble-suburbanites cant understand anything they are saying.
i most probably ordered off the same exact menu as one of these places. (i am pretty sure they all use the same tri-folded one, no?)
so, so. i order. vegetable this, vegetable that. i think i am getting sick, so i ask for REALLY spicy soup.
i wait. it is made. she wraps it. pay. leave.
get home to find everything i wanted, but only plastic american utensials to eat it with.
i know they had chopsticks. i saw they had chopsticks. i saw here putting them in other take out orders.
so why dont i get them? at one point she looked at me, up and down, and mentally said ‘this girl, she cant use chopsticks.’
how sad i am. take away chinese lady thinks i am ethnocentric, uncouth, brass,boring. she wouldnt date me, i am sure.
i suppose i should go drive my pick up truck up the block or something to make myself feel better.,,,