Unfiltered Story #193855

(This takes place on a saturday night in a night market restaurant : it is obviously overcrowded, but not short-staffed as everything goes fine. In most cheap and medium-wage restaurants in Taiwan, the “menu” is a sheet of paper with the prices on which you must tick what you what and how many of each dish, then bring it to the counter, and pay up-front or not depending on the restaurant’s policy.
We queue 10 minutes before being sat down and given the order sheet, decide on what to it, and I get up to bring it to the counter. I’m European but fluent in Chinese.)

Me : Hi. *gives order sheet*

Clerk : *Takes order sheet and types it in computer, with no interaction. She waits, then finally looks at me.* “Where ?”

Me : “I’m sorry ?”

Clerk : *Sighes, and looks away from me, staring vaguely at the restaurant without moving.*

Me : *getting it after awkward silence* Oh, my table number ?

Cherk : *ignores me*

(I look at my order sheet, and I indeed forgot to write my table number, so I assume that’s what she meant indeed.)

Me : *takes 5 steps to check and comes back* We are [table number].

Clerk : *types it in cash register, total appears on the screen, and she stares at me without saying anything.*

Me : *gives cash, I guess*

Clerk : *takes it and gives change back without saying anything*

Me : “Er…I had a drink ?”

Clerk : *vaguely looks down at the receipt on her desk without bending, turns to the soda machine, makes my drink, puts it on counter, stops moving*

Me : “Thanks.” *gets drink and walks away*

(The rest of the evening went perfect, dishes were perfect and served fast. I’m not sure if the clerk was generally rude or just being exhausted, as she litteraly lacked emotion and interaction. It was surprising and confusing as most Taiwanese usually kind of get excited whenever a foreigner speaks Chinese with them.)