screwage

i braved the streets alone tonight. m is sick in bed. he's tired, achy and over it all for the time being. i went up the street to get some dinner from a little cafe called just around the corner. they have a bit of a '50s diner look and sell the same sort of food. there are posters on the wall featuring black n white photos of american film and music stars with super kitschy phrases on them. for example, there's one of bruce willis from die hard, and he's supposedly saying in to the telephone, "give me a salad/soup combo to go ... or you'll die hard for it." there's one of '90s madonna, saying, "i'm mad-on-a frozen orange creamsicle." and ah-nold from terminator saying, "you'll come back." you get the idea. anywho. it's cafeteria style, so i order and then advance down the counter to the cash register. the cashier added it all up on a calculator and told me the price. i handed him the money and noticed him pass the calculator to his buddy who was lurking next to him. i glanced back at the menu and sure enough, the bastard had totally overcharged me! i told him as much and asked for a receipt, which they usually give. he denied it and said he'd bring me the receipt after i sat down. i repeated what i had said and we had the same conversation again. defeated, i glared at him and simmered my way to a table, accepting that this is the indian way... the same, exact thing that everyone's warned us about. it was after all only 50 rupees, which is only a little more than a dollar. it seriously pissed me off. in the end, the manager returned the extra money and the cashier kept his life.