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Babel-ing On, Part 3

, , , , , , | Right | January 4, 2022

My Dutch in-laws are visiting me in Jakarta for a few days before my wedding. My Dutch is crap, but I still use it with them for practice.

The day after they arrive, I take them to a sit-down restaurant that serves Indonesian food. Not long after we sit down, the waiter comes to take our order. I tell the waiter that we would like a bottle of water to be shared by the table, then start asking what everybody wants. It takes me a while to realize that they (even the waiter) are looking at me funny.

It takes me even longer to realize what’s wrong.

My scattered bride-brain somehow switched the language. I spoke to the waiter in Dutch and asked my Dutch family for their orders in Indonesian instead. Of course, they didn’t answer me.

Related:
Babel-ing On, Part 2
Babel-ing On

Font Do That Again

, , , | Right | December 14, 2020

I’m working as a web developer for a client.

Client: “Hey, about the text… Can you make it slightly bigger?”

Me: “Of course, please wait a minute.”

I change the font size from 24 px to 32 px.

Client: “No, no, that’s too big. Make it smaller.”

Me: “All right.”

I change it to 28 px.

Client: “Still too big.”

I change it back to 24 px.

Client: “That’s it! That’s the right size!”

Me: *Inhales deeply*

Almost The Wedding Of Their Dreams

, , , | Friendly | November 17, 2019

(I start helping my mom in her office as an assistant. We don’t tell the clients about our relationship, but some of our closest clients notice our similarities and guess it on their own. There is this one client who is very keen on having me as his daughter-in-law; he introduces me to his son, asks me to show his son — recently back from studying abroad — around our city — to which request I say a firm no — and asks me to come to his house for documents signing — my mom forbids me to go. Fast forward a few years: we are still in a good relationship with the client and we get an invitation to his son’s wedding. My mom goes to the wedding — the kind of wedding where the parents of both bride and groom are standing right next to the bride and groom, and guests are expected to queue to greet them — and after queuing for some time, she finally gets to greet her clients.)

Mom: “Hi, Mr. [Client]. Congratulations on your son’s wedding!”

Client: “Thank you for coming!” *to his wife* “This is Mrs. [Mom], the one who helped us with [case].”

Client’s Wife: *in full hearing of everyone nearby, including her son and her new daughter-in-law* “Ooh, thank you for coming. Too bad we are not meant to be in-laws!”

Massaging The Wait Time

, , , | Friendly | October 11, 2019

(I’m a non-confrontational person; when I witness any incident, I tend to shy away and pretend not to look at it by switching my view to my phone. Today my body is so tensed up and I really can’t wait to get a massage treatment. I enter the spa and there’s a line to the counter. There’s only one line for BOTH registration and payment. As I am reaching the counter, the couple in front of me starts arguing with the cashier regarding the payment. Normally, I’d just keep silent and wait while playing a game on my phone no matter how long it takes. However, my body is aching and I’m so upset that I have to wait longer when it is almost my turn. So, I say in a louder than normal voice.)

Me: “UGH! THIS TAKES TOO LONG!”

(The wife turns to me and I instantly think:)

Me: *thinking* “Oh, my God! I just initiated a confrontation!”

(So, I immediately say:)

Me: “What? It’s my game! It takes too loooong to load this game on my phone!”

(Thankfully, she didn’t confront me or do anything, just turned back and swore something under her breath. But immediately afterward, the couple decided not to pursue the matter much longer and just left while the husband kept swearing. I was glad that, FINALLY, I could reach the counter, register my name on it, and get my massage. And it felt so wonderfully nice.)

They’re Not Much Nicer By Seventeen, Either

, , , , | Right | February 13, 2019

(I work for a small but successful company that specialises in organizing sweet seventeens — the equivalent of sweet sixteens in the US. The owners of the company are a young married couple, and they routinely perform in the parties as magician and host. On this day I am accompanying them in a meeting with a client, who is a girl about to have her “extra special” sweet seventeen party. No, the parents are not there. They gave her a blank check to organise her own party.)

Girl: *sitting there with her arms crossed* “So, what games will we have at my party?”

Female Owner: “Well, we can have a dancing competition where—“

Girl: *cuts off my boss mid-sentence, rolling her eyes, sighing, and waving a hand* “Next!”

Male Owner: “A cake eating competition is really popular these days, and—“

Girl: *rolls her eyes and waves a hand again* “Ew! My guests? Their clothes are expensive. I’m sure you’re not paying for dry-cleaning if cake gets on them.”

(My eyes go wide at the girl’s rudeness, but my bosses have had a previous meeting with her and are familiar with her attitude. They keep quiet and continue in this manner for a while, until they start discussing having a magic show at the party.)

Girl: *looks my male boss up and down* “You’re the magician? Don’t you have someone else?”

Male Owner: “I’m the only magician we have. Don’t worry; I’ve been performing in parties since I was younger than you are.”

Girl: “You’re going to wear a suit, right? Can you fit in a suit? You’re kind of fat.”

Male Owner: *fake laugh* “I can fit in a suit. I wore one to our wedding.” *gestures to his wife*

Girl: *looks at both of them, snorts* “You married him? Why?!”

(After that, my bosses sent me out of the room because they could see my face was red from anger. I didn’t come back until the meeting was over, but I was told that the girl continued making snide comments about how my female boss made a huge mistake marrying her husband.)