Besides smelling bad with a faint hint of vanilla.
Lovely puff cakes. Dinner. Because reasons.
When I came home from work it was to hear all about buying a "monument" in Chinatown.
My apartment mate's sibling passed away a few weaks ago, so she's arranging the headstone. Which is frustrating, because although she repeatedly told the person she was dealing with that she doesn't speak Chinese (well, she does, but not that good), the other person kept lapsing into Chinese. Chinese is so comforting when talking about funeral stuff, don't you think? Crucial details should not be explicated in Chinese to someone who is a native speaker of English and not conversant in the hometown tongue.
The actual native speaker of Chinese may not be a perfect match for the task. Unsuited because of idiocy.
I have advised her to get everything in writting, the contractual details especially, what goes on the front of the stone exactly, precise dates and names, so we can go over it together.
Seeing as I read Chinese. And the person she dealt with may be an idiot.
Chinese names are three characters. No wild stabs please! English names and terms are sometimes so thoroughly butchered by native speakers of Chinese as to be gibberish.
Crucial details are, of course, just that: crucial details.
Oh, and by the way: fan hung sik (粉紅色) is NOT a suitable colour for a grave stone.
Hues of red are nice lucky happy colours and all that, but what the hell!?!??!
For an hour after I got home I heard about Chinese madness.
Oh, and apparently an appointment time is just a lucky guess, a stab in the dark, if you showed up on time the other person could still be on the freeway or buying dim sum .......
As you know, the medical persons I see a few times a year are Chinese. They are efficient and courteous, and because I show up well ahead of the time I'm supposed to be there I am often finished with my appointment before the time I was supposed to be there. Conceivably because some other appointed person was still on the freeway or buying dim sum .......
No wonder the office manager at the clinic always looks a little harried. And I can remember once an old couple chewing her out.
Until she explained to them, based on the paperwork they showed her, that the main reason why she could not find them in her system was that they weren't supposed to be there but two floors above in a different department, at a different time. As it said, clearly, in both English and Chinese.
Yeah okay, thank you come again.
And y'all maybe need that group rate, huh?
Everybody at Chinese Hospital I have EVER dealt with has ALWAYS been on time. My cardiologist, who is also Chinese, but at a different hospital, has also always been on time. My eye-doctor, whose office is in Chinatown two blocks away from the hospital, has likewise always been on time. My apartment mate, Chinese American, is exact about that too. Our staff at the Hong Kong office years ago, was also precise about those things. If they said they'd call at five minutes past four o'clock our time, the phone would ring at exactly five minutes past four.
The only times I've ever had to wait were when I showed up far too early. Or two weeks ago when there had been a medical emergency in radiology that of course had had precedence, and a Spanish speaking gentleman was threatening to take his "business" elsewhere.
[Señor, that's a splendid idea! You're not doing anybody any favours by being here, and they're far too polite and professional to tell you where to shove it.]
And I was still out of there way before I expected to be.
So instead of preparing myself something hot to eat upon my return from Marin, I snacked on Funwari Sucre cakes while she ranted furiously about Chinatown and Chinese ways of doing things. It was very entertaining. She's extremely eloquent and capable of expressing herself with point and venom. Especially when pissed off.
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