We’ll Be Mandar-In And Out

(I am visiting a friend in China. He is working as an English teacher at a university, and is fluent in Chinese. I know absolutely zero Chinese, so my friend has to tell me about this conversation afterwards. We are both pasty-white Americans, and we are both wearing typically American clothing at the time. A waitress comes over to our table.)

Waitress: *in bad English* “You decide what to eat?”

Me: “No.”

Friend: “Nah, I’m good.”

Waitress: *in Chinese* “Hurry up, you fat American pigs. I bet you are going to eat everything we have here and leave this place in a mess.”

Friend: *a little shocked* “Um… What?”

Waitress: *in English, looking as if she said nothing wrong* “Sorry, my English bad. You want water?”

Me: “Sure, we would love some water.”

(The waitress leaves and brings us water, and takes orders. Then, this happens at the end of the meal, when we are ready to leave.)

Waitress: *in English* “You have nice meal?”

Friend: *in perfect Chinese* “Of course. It is always nice to come to local restaurants. Of course, I will never come back here again. We both know why.”

(The waitress looked like she’d seen a ghost. My friend did not tell me anything else that she said apart from that first part, but I remember that she said something just about every time she came to our table to bring food and stuff, so she was likely being a big potty mouth every time. In hindsight, I should have noticed how stressed my friend was at the time.)