The Order Taker
Sometimes you just can't win.
Arriving back in the States only three days ago from mainland China, Max had recovered from the jet lag and was ready to put his four years of living and working in China into action. Immersed in the culture there, Max embraced the challenge of learning Mandarin, taking intensive language courses and practicing daily with locals. His day job involved collaborating with Chinese engineers, which solidified his fluency. Within two years he was speaking effortlessly and it took him the remaining two to be able to read basic Chinese characters.
He had never been to the Silk Road Noodle House, he was sure of it. He would’ve remembered its slogan: Authentic Flavors that Travel. But there was a first time for everything. Before going there with friends, Max wanted to try it out to see if indeed it was authentic and close to what he had experienced in China.
After being seated and served hot tea and water, Max opened the menu and began reading the characters.
With a smile, he browsed the items, not really sure what he was hungry for.
“Something spicy,” Max said to himself out loud. “Think I’ll go with “General Cho’s Chicken with a side of fried rice and a few dumplings.”
The waiter, a short thin man named Ray, arrived at his side with a pen and pad in hand.
“I think I’ll have General Cho’s Chicken with a side of fried rice and a few dumplings,” Max said in his best Mandarin Chinese.
Ray said nothing but tapped the top of his pen on the pad.
Max looked up at the waiter and ordered again in Chinese.
Ray scratched his eyebrow.
“What?” he asked in flawless and accentless English. “I’m sorry, Boss, but I don’t speak Chinese. I’m third generation from Thailand.”