Ruriko, two minutes after ordering the kids’ dessert (fried banana and coconut ice cream at a Thai place): “Oh and can you not dust the ice cream with peanuts? Just realized that’s a thing.”
Waitress: “OMG please tell me not a peanut allergy.”
“Just a little one.”
“... OK.”
1/2
Waitress: “OMG please tell me not a peanut allergy.”
“Just a little one.”
“... OK.”
1/2
“I can chop off the top of the ice cream.”
“That’s perfect.”
“And what do you want me to do about the fried banana, which has peanut butter, is fried in peanut oil, then dusted with peanuts?”
“Erm.”
“Yeah that’s on you this is a Thai restaurant.”
“Sorry our mistake.”
“Sorry.”
“That’s perfect.”
“And what do you want me to do about the fried banana, which has peanut butter, is fried in peanut oil, then dusted with peanuts?”
“Erm.”
“Yeah that’s on you this is a Thai restaurant.”
“Sorry our mistake.”
“Sorry.”
(In hindsight I may have translated this in such a way as to not give the impression that the waitress was being empathetic and distressed on the kids’ behalf while speaking in her third language. Mea maxima culpa; that sort of nuance is a challenge.)
