Yes, you may laugh at me. Namaste.

My regular lunchmate (AKA Apple, AKA older sister, AKA frequent housemate) and I ate at the Om Indian Kitchen a few weeks ago just to check it out (and, you know, hunger).

Butter chicken!
(From the resto's Facebook photos)

No regrets there. Samosas were OK, naan was good, butter chicken was grrreat. I'll try it with rice next time. (Accept me.)

But that's not why I'm blogging about that particular lunch. I'm not a food blogger, after all.

(Side note: Many people have urged me to become a food blogger, but I don't think I have an adequate gastronomic vocabulary or enough objectivity to write about food. My intimate relationship with food cannot be put into words. Or maybe it can, and I'm just lazy. Yeah, that's it.)

Our server's name was Angel. This piece of information will come in handy later. Just wait for the horror.

Our bill for the very satisfying meal was PHP 501.25, which was money well spent, I thought. I got a thousand-peso bill from my wallet and gave it to Angel. 

After more than 10 minutes, I didn't have my change yet. Which was perplexing because there were just two other tables occupied, and Angel really wasn't doing anything after I paid. She was just standing by the counter, looking around. This made my blood start to boil a little because, honestly, how hard was it to give me my change? Some people! So incompetent!!! I HATE THE WORLD!!! (My emotions escalate quickly.)

So with all the control I could muster, I asked Angel (in Filipino), "Excuse me. Why is it taking so long? Where is my change?"

And the poor Angel looked at me kindly and said,

"Ma'am, 500 po ang binigay nyo. Actually, kulang pa po yung binigay nyo pero OK na po yon."

(Translation: Ma'am, you gave 500. Actually, it's not enough, but that's OK.)

HUUUWHAAAATTT? Mwahahahahhahhahahaha. I felt a direct punch to the solar plexus of my ego.

In the middle of laughing my face off and apologizing, I somehow managed to get 50 pesos (yes, it was really 50 ... I think) to pay for the rest of my bill and leave a little tip. I felt like I should've given her my entire wallet to ask for forgiveness and redeem my humiliated spirit.

Angel (who could not have a more appropriate name) saw the money I left on the table and said, "No, it's really OK." Someone please give this woman a raise. 

Anyway, I said it was for the 1-peso-something and begged her to take it. Then we left. In shame.

Needless to say, my sister (AKA moral support) couldn't stop giggling, if you define 'giggling' as an open-mouthed, throaty cackling. I couldn't blame her. For the rest of that day (and for most of the next), whenever I thought about that Indian lunch, I burst out laughing uncontrollably. Fortunately, I was alone for my LOL explosions the next day. I've reached my monthly quota of embarrassment, thank you very much.