People Will Really Like You If You Can Afford Our Food

To show NG’s family how deep in the big time I was, I treated them out, in celebration of the fifth day of my having a new refill ink cartridge installed in my DONG A pen, to the most expensive restaurant in the Money District. People Will Really Like You If You Can Afford Our Food (PWRLYIYCAOF) is a small business establishment renting an even smaller business space in the second floor, east wing of the Money Mall, for only 90 thou a month, but it definitely is the most expensive restaurant in the region.

The very fact that it doesn’t need all that floor area—it was large enough for only a bar, a kitchen, and four middle-sized dining tables with four chairs each—means only a few people at a given time can eat there. Most of the time people can’t afford to, or even if they can, they’d rather spend their money on “actual necessities” than, say, a 3,000 PhP-worth slice of Spring Cake.

“The food are really expensive here!” exclaimed NG’s little kid brother in authentic amazement. I had just finished explaining to him that to save the owners of the place extra cost in printing their menu from all the 0’s, their prices were “abbreviated” to a thousandth of their actual price.

“You mean Green Rice,” said NG’s father, “which here is 2.5, means it’s actually sold for 2,500 per serving?”

“Uh-huh,” I answered extravagantly.

“You must really be in the big time!”

“I am,” I said. I then attempted to explain to them the means by which I accumulated money, and how I carelessly throw all of them away, because I didn’t care, because I was in the big time. I was three seconds into my story when the waiter put a land lightly on my shoulder.

“Are you going to buy our food or not?” he asked, only faintly out of impatience, all in money-thirst.

“Hey,” NG’s father said. “The boy will order if and when he chooses to. Go wait in the corner till we call for you.”

The waiter gave a deriding glare at NG’s father and the rest of his family. In front of him were wannabe customers who not only hadn’t shelled out money yet, but was not familiar with how things worked in expensive business establishments such as PWRLYIYCAOF.

“It’s OK, sir,” I said to NG’s father. “It’s normal around here for the staff to treat people like us this way. We are, technically, not paying customers yet. Until we pay, we are no good to them than dirt sitting on their chairs waiting to be wiped out.”

“That’s true,” the waiter agreed. “You are even lucky. Some patrons here get spat at as they leave, after learning they don’t have money enough to afford them a full-course meal.”

I nodded in agreement.

“But that won’t happen to us,” I quickly said to the waiter. “I belong to the 8 to 9 income bracket. I can pay for your food and buy you and any two members of your family any day of the payroll week I choose.” I took an 800 PhP bill, patted it to his cheek, and said, “Just get us four tall glasses of Expensive Water for now, will ya?”

He took the money, and after carefully inspecting it for authenticity, said, “I’ll be back in a while with your Expensive Water.”

“See?” I said to NG’s family. “Now that we’ve moneyed them up, we can start to expect a slightly better treatment.”

© Jay Santos 2003.