Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Balla Bad

I am a little bit obsessed with Indian food. Say the words "roti channai" and I'm there, drooling all over your face like a prostitute. If I can, I try to schedule in Indian food at least once in my week. And yes, I am the type of person who plans my take-out roster.

So I was entertaining myself at an Indian restaurant that I've never been to - run by non-Indians, mind you. I asked for a small portion of butter chicken and two roti parahtas and was immediately told that it would cost me $17, but if I ordered the curry with rice instead it would be $9. But I couldn't substitute the bread for the rice. I pointed at the small takeaway container on the counter, nicely priced at $7 and ordered that and the parahtas to have at the restaurant. The waitress then proceeded to pack everything in a bag and sent me out, so I asked for a plate. She then crudely pointed at a giant sign saying NO TAKEAWAY TO BE CONSUMED IN THE RESTAURANT. But said it would be okay to perch myself on a random stool in the very corner of the restaurant. Oh, and yeah, I wasn't allowed to use metal cutlery. Or use a plate because I paid for "takeaway" prices and clearly the price I paid was more important than the fact that I stained their counter with orange liquid because the container burst everywhere.

Maybe I should just point out that my so-called takeaway meal was more expensive than some of their dine-in meals, and I was the only person in the whole joint so they clearly needed the tables free for all of their invisible diners. Oh, and my grub tasted like bottled sauce from Woolies.

Fantastic customer service, people.

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