By Monday I still hadn’t heard back from the owner of Amici's. He hadn’t called me as promised by Huyen. So at 8pm I implemented Phase 2 of my strategy ... become so annoying that Huyen will do anything to get rid of me, ie dryclean my shirt and tie.
I called Huyen, reintroduced myself and asked why the owner had not called me back yet.
At first she pretended she didn't know who I was.
“Who? Huh? What?”
--It’s me! Anthony*! With the shirt and tie! You have my shirt and tie!”
“Who? Who you?”
The little ragamuffin.
-- “Anthony! The coffee! Spilled! Coffee lid! My shirt and tie … at your café! The owner. He does not call me. Why not?”
I start to realize how ridiculous this all sounds. The broken English has really stripped it back to the bone.
“It is late. I work all day. I don’t need this. Not from you. Call tomorrow.”
-- “You promised me the owner would call me back --”
[I hear a pin drop.]
“He will call. Tomorrow."
-- “But you said that before. And nothing.”
“He will call. Tomorrow. It is late. Go away please. I am tired.”
-- “What is his name please?”
“I can’t tell you. Please call back tomorrow.”
-- “You told me the manager would call me and now you--”
“I don’t care. I am tired.”
[Click]
That fucking bitch. I called her straight back. No answer. My heart is racing. I am a caged animal. Stir crazy. Ready to strike. Infuriated and angry and justified and mistreated ... my senses are heightened and my tongue is sharpened. My eyes are flickering and my fingers are furious. My thumb comes down hard as I press Send.
This is Hanoi. This is not Tunbridge Wells. I soon calm down and reread my sms.
The sms – get this – outlines how I am so outraged at all this that I will be - get this - writing a newspaper article about it. I can't quite believe what I'm seeing.
I imagine Huyen reading my sms and feel humiliated.
My watertight strategy has just sprung a huge leak.
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