Helpful Heckling at the KFC

I was in line at KFC recently (as is my wont). It was late in the evening, but there was still a sizeable queue waiting to order. To my great concern, at the counter just a couple of people in front of me, was a middle-aged western lady. Whilst I couldn't presume her nationality, I'd describe her general demeanor as "conspicuously Midwestern". No offense to any midwesterners reading, but...y'know.



My initial fear was confirmed when I unplugged my earbuds and confirmed that, yes, she absolutely was attempting to place an order for her entire family in English. This largely isn't a problem; most of the items on the menu are phonetically copied from English anyway (Zinger burger, The Box set, etc.), and also the number one whitey-abroad-ordering-method of pointing at pictures/holding up fingers, she and the cashier were able to reach an effective (if rudimentary) level of working communication. It was at this juncture that the conversation was swiftly derailed, as she barked the dreaded words "mashed potatoes".

Oh SHIT

The cashier was stumped. This was because the Thai word for "mashed potatoes"- funnily enough- doesn't sound even remotely like "mashed potatoes". The lady, sensing that she had not been entirely misunderstood, pulled out the second go-to tool for white people ordering food in a foreign language; repeating exactly what she'd said before, but at a much louder volume. Shockingly, this failed to resolve the impasse. The cashier looked around desperately for help, but none was forthcoming. It was at this moment that I realised that it nobody else was going to come to the rescue- if anyone was going to step up and do something, it would have to be me. In my deepest and smoothest Thai-TV announcer voice, I looked directly at the guy behind the counter and called out:

"มันฝรั่งบด"

A flash of recognition and relief crossed the cashier's face, and all was again right with the world. Midwestern lady quickly clarified that she wanted 3 of the thing that the cashier had just understood, although she never acknowledged my presence. This lack of recognition made me feel like a kind of anonymously helpful vigilante, resolving the world's confusion and misunderstanding one small piece at a time. I soon collected my own bucket of fried junk, and waddled into the night like a morbidly obese Batman.

I know my place