There's a fly in my soup!

Customer: "Waiter! Is this a fly?"

Waiter: "Oh, no sir, of course not, our chef would never make such a blunder. That, sir, is a cigerette butt with garneshings, and I would ask you to be a little more discreet; if others hear you then everyone might want!"

It's been weeks of agonizing waiting and I was in a near jog when pushing through the car dealer doors with my hands full of paperwork from the insurance company. I looked like a desperate Washington petitioner trying to make it to the Hopper Box with a new piece of legislation before the deadline.

After driving a gazillion miles to pick up the original insurance policy with the exact description of the car, chassis and engine numbers, the must have stamp, the letter of no objection, the receipt of payment (with more stamps) and the copies of my US drivers license, Danish drivers license, Dubai drivers license and more copies of my passport and residence visa, I finally made it to the salesman's desk. Gasping for air, I was re-directed to the RTA desk (Roads and Transport Authority), which I quickly dubbed the RTAM (for Roads and Transport Angry-Man). Angry-Man was saying a whole lot of loud words in Arabic and pointing his fingers at a small Filipino Sales Lady who apparently had misplaced a car registration and was now in tears because Angry-Man was yelling at her. I waited for about 20 minutes while trying to pick-up what Angry-Man was yelling, only to interpret what I believe to be Arabic swear-words. When he took 30 seconds to breathe, I quickly asked him when I could get my car registration - Oh boy!! Angry-Man told me in a heavy accented voice that "OK - he would do my paperwork first, since I asked, but that normally it would take an hour!" I decided to throw him a big smile and a small wink and told him that I would gladly wait a few more minutes so he could stamp and copy the registration.

In the meantime mind you - Aric was outside feeling up his new FJ Cruiser, parked in the dealer lot and yearning to be taken off-road into the sand for a hair-raising spin. He joined me at Angry-Man's desk with drewl and dripple on his chin and then had the nerve to joke that the dealer had my car ready but that it was white/white rather than white/pearl! I started to laugh but choked on it when James the finance guy confirmed what was not a joke - they had ordered the wrong car. Another car salesman hurriedly and defensively explained that a white/white Prado is more desirable, holds more resale value and this must have been our mistake because their top salesman did not make such blunders.

In a daze of shock I mumbled that this was no mistake of mine! I had definetely ordered a white/pearl Prado and I wasn't going to compromise because their top salesman was usually un-touchable and could cook one hell of a soup! Angry-Man gave me a cookie - I think he wanted to prevent a nervous breakdown judging from my facial expression.

After a long debate involving two salesmen, Angry-Man, James the finance guy and Aric - it was agreed that they would have a white/pearl delivered within 4 days. I got a loaner demo car for the time being and to top it off, the salesman agreed to allow the insurance company to courier the certificates with the corrected chassis and engine number straight to him so I didn't have to drive the gazillion miles again. Like a numb and battered politician who has just experienced a Veto in the Senate, I dragged myself out to the demo car and silently followed Aric in his new car (which Angry-Man happily assigned registration and plates to) and will now eat my cold soup until a new hot Prado in the right color is delivered next weekend.