Argh! I’m on a war path this morning. Having a difficult morning at work and ordered food to be delivered from Chili’s at the Al Jimi Mall (yes, the same Chili’s that is in malls all over the U.S…. the orderly country I’m really missing this morning!). Anyway, we have NO ADDRESSES in this country. Yup… I know, I know… you’re saying, “What do you mean there are no addresses in your country”… but they really don’t have them.
All of your mail goes through a PO Box number that is assigned to your EMPLOYER.
So this is how the conversation went with Chili’s….
Me: Hi, I’d like to order food for delivery.
Them: OK, Mum (this is what the Filipinos call women), what would you like?
Me: A grilled chicken salad, dressing on side, no cheese.
Them: Great, Mum… what is your address.
Me: LAUGHING MY ASS OFF, SNORT, SNORT… breathe…. we don’t have addresses.
Them: Yeah, I know, Mum, I meant what is your location?
Me: Ah yes, my location… Cromwell Hospital, I am behind the Adnoc (gas station here), next to the Iranian mosque (there are hundreds, literally), just behind your mall, about 3 blocks behind you.
Them: OK, Mum, I got it. Phone number? … I give it to them.
45 minutes later they call me, where you at? I tell them again, hold on, let me get someone who understands you, mum. OK… next guy, same thing, 3rd guy, what is your address? I LMAO once again… I say, somewhat sarcastically, how long have you lived here, you know we don’t have addresses! I give him explicit instructions, once again. Then… then… he says… WHAT IS YOUR PHONE NUMBER? What is my phone number??!?!?!?!? You CALLED ME! Argh !(*&$#(#(#&!!!
Anyway, food just came while writing this and of course, the Chicken Salad minus dairy products is wrong, so now I await the delivery and dream of a day that this 3rd world country with more money than they know what to do with, comes up with street addresses, so people could actually find you.