The night we arrived in Vietnam we stayed in a hotel. We were all starving so we decided to order room service. I was voted to call and order. Kensley wanted bolognese. It’s pronounced boe-la-nese. She read it as it was spelled. We all got a kick out of that.
I called to order and the guy answered. First, he could hardly speak English. Second, I had called the local operator, not the hotel room service. I told him I wanted to order room service and he said, “We busy. Call back fifteen minutes.” My reply was, “can I not tell you my order?” I thought he said yes, but apparently he had said something else. I started ordering our food and he was mumbling something in the back ground to someone. We turned the menu over and there was the right number for room service. Needless to say the operator knew what we were eating for supper that night.