So we, as we did for plenty times during the last few years, called one of our favourite local restaurants the other day to order some home delivery. The friendly automated lady told us that the called phone is currently out of service and we should try again later. Later as in when the restaurant paid their bill or when the dug-up cable got replaced?
Never mind, Google knew about an alternative number to call. Done deal we thought — called the number, asked “is this restaurant xyz”? “Yes”, it sounded through the line. Hah, done deal! “We’d like to have one order of pepper fry chicken” — “you know the one with curry leaves and chilli”. “Yes, with curry leaves and chilli” it sounded from the other end. “And dal fry and 2 naan”. “2 dal fry?” the called asked. “No, 1 dal fry, 2 naan” we responded to the slightly slow employee of the enterprise. “OK,” he asked; “that’s all? Give me your address”. The address was provided and all seemed good.
Until about 20 mins later when a text message came in, saying: “We are not a restaurant, we are an interior works company”, compete with a pic of their signboard.
I don’t usually do millenium-generation shorts, but WTF feels spot-on for what I felt…