Biscuits

My dad is a stickler for good customer service. And understandably so, you pay for a service you expect to be taken care of, right? But one night my dad outdid himself in demanding-better-customer-service-than-he-received.

He left to pick up Popeye's for dinner and upon his return, realized they had forgotten to put in his biscuits.

My dad was livid. You don't mess with his biscuits. He weirdly loves biscuits. Also he loves being right and doing the right thing always and hates being "wronged." If I were to bring this event up to him today, he would say, "It is the principle Sara Jan,* I ordered a combo and it came with biscuits, I am a paying customer I deserve respect!!"

(*Jan is Farsi means "dear," no my middle name is not Jan)

He toyed with driving back to get them and at my mother's insistence that the food would be cold by the time he got back and it wasn't worth it, my dad sat down at the table.

For maybe 5 seconds.

Before he got up, fished for his receipt, and decided he would CALL POPEYE'S CHICKEN.

They didn't answer.......probably because they were busy, so my dad hung up and ate his meal and we had a lovely night.

NOPE WRONG HE LEFT A VOICEMAIL.

"Hello, my name is Ali I am customer order #25825, you forgot my biscuits!”

Now, my dad's punishment of choice (and as his daughter, I know this) is lecturing. Good ol' fashioned 30-60 minute lectures.

Yes, he proceeded to lecture Popeye's chicken on customer service, or lack there of, as well as forgetfulness, ethics, and that him and his wife "really like their biscuits but will go to KFC if you do not learn your lesson."

I can just imagine some 18 year old kid manager playing that message the next morning and cracking up at what probably sounded like a drunk call. Or he probably never heard the message because they probably never actually get voicemails because they're POPEYE'S CHICKEN.

But let's all pretend my dad taught them a BIG lesson that day.

Needing autocorrect for real life

When I go back home to Houston, my mother will call my grandmother who lives in Colombia so that I can catch up with her. I went home during holiday break back in college and she called my grandmother so we could say Feliz Navidad y Feliz Ano Nuevo (Merry Christmas/Happy New Year).

My abuelita doesn't speak English - except for the occasional "Hi baby" - and I of course do speak Spanish but over the years due to my mother speaking 90% English to me, I can forget words here and there. But the majority of the time we tend to manage just fine.

I called her and we caught up about my semester in school. Then she proceeded to guilt me for not calling her on her birthday:

Tu no me llamaste para mi cumpleanos, Sarita.
     You didn't call me for my birthday, little Sara. 

Abuelita, perdon! Olivde. Estaba ocupada con mis estudios.
    Granma, I'm sorry! I forgot. I was really busy with my studies.

Esta bien.
   It's fine.

Lo siento, abuelita. Estoy muy embarazada.
   I'm sorry, grandma. I'm very......embarrassed?

She paused. Total shift in her voice.

Oh, si????
   Really??

Si abuelita........
    Yes, grandma.....

She then asked me to pass the phone to my mother, which I did.

CUT TO: 5 minutes later when my mother is screaming at me with tears in her eyes.

"YOU'RE PREGNANT?!?!?!?"

PUMP.THE.BREAKS. Screeeeeeeeeeeech.

             "Wait, what?!!?!? NO! What are you talking about?!"

You told your grandmother you are very pregnant!

              "I did not! I said I forgot to call her because I was busy with school and I felt very embarrassed and sorry!"

Come to find out, "embarazada" WHICH SOUNDS A HELLUVA LOT LIKE IT WOULD BE THE ENGLISH WORD FOR EMBARRASSED - actually means pregnant.  So basically I told my grandmother I forgot to call her for birthday because I was with child.

After calming my mother down and assuring her that her 19 year old daughter was indeed, not pregnant, I had to redial my grandmother to explain to her that my Spanish wasn't that great anymore and I was very very sorry and very apurada,  aka the real way to say embarrassed.

Talk about being lost in translation.

Dadpak Chopra

I always look forward to opening my dad's emails. He rarely does email me, but when he does he takes every possible moment to remind me just how wonderful it is to have him. He can never just send an email, it's always some lovely words of wisdom out of an inspirational-quotes-coffee-table-book you'd find at Paper Source.

Often I realize the moments I get his messages are the exact moments I needed to hear his words. He's a constant flow of positivity, perspective, and gratitude - my very own little "Dadpak Chopra."

Here are some of my favorites -  

The day after I filmed my first short film:

Thanking me for a birthday card:

When I was down about a job I didn't book: 

And my favorite, when I just emailed to tell him I got to Canada safely:

I need to be sending people replies like this! Talk about brightening someone's day (or possibly having people think you've been doing too much Yoga in Silverlake) but who cares?! Love + Light to all! 

Dad buys Designer

My dad hates shopping. He also hates when my mother shops for him. Unless she is buying him figs, he makes her return everything she buys him. That includes all clothes. Even if he desperately needs it. Always the minimalist, he believes he can get by on one of everything. He can't that's weird but he insists so we don't push it.

But one day he came home with a huge grin on his face and told us he bought a shirt for himself! After the initial shock, we all wanted to see the shirt. Proudly, he brought it out of the bag and began to boast. "I couldn't believe it, I found a Giorgio Armani shirt for only 9.99! What a great deal."

Always the observant one, I noticed he had pulled the shirt out of a WalMart bag.

Umm dad, where did you get the shirt?
WalMart.
Dad, I don't think they sell Armani at WalMart?
They do! I bought it.
..........................

I check the tag, just to make sure. 

Yeah, NO.

This brand is just called GEORGE. Not Giorgio. Not Armani. JUST GEORGE.

It wasn't like WalMart claimed it was an Armani shirt and my dad got conned into a knock-off a la Chinatown (or Harwin if you're a Houstonian) my dad just up and thought George equated Armani! And since he NEVER shops, it's not beyond him to know that Walmart would never ever carry that.

No one had the guts to tell him and when he put the shirt on the next day, we even threw him a "Looking sharp, dad!' "Whooooaaaa check out George-io over here!"

Bless his heart.

Patty vs The Possum

So, my mother sent me a text a few months ago of this photo:

To which we had the following conversation:

My mother, who as far as I'm concerned is a very sane woman, IS CLAIMING A POSSUM THREW A CAN OF BEANS AT HER. Specifically, a can of GARBANZO BEANS.

I'm so fucking confused. I mean, my mother isn't a liar, she's like my own little Mother Theresa. She wouldn't lie for the sake of comedy. Which is this why this is all the more hilarious.

I DON'T GET IT.

Me, always trying to rationalize everything, tried to make sense of her strange allegations. Was a possum maybe out by the garbage cans when she took the trash out one night? Maybe she scared him and as he was running away he like kicked an empty can of beans somewhat in her direction?!

OR did an angry possum, with a vendetta for little Colombian women, strategically wait until my mother was alone at night where she was an easy target, and attack her - using his weapon of choice, a can of (again, specifically) garbanzo beans?!?!!?

I'll never know what really went down that November night. But for the sake of it making me laugh every time I remember it, I want so badly for my mother to be right.