I just remember the first apartment where I lived here in Bahrain. The place had everything. Furniture, linen, kitchen utensils ...
The problem were the dishes. They had that gilded line over it, not microwaveable. And in my house, everything goes in the microwave.
So I called the watchman and used my very sophisticated vocabulary for communication in Bangladeshi:
- Hafiz, dish, no good. Another apartment, dish good. Take these, bring those.
- No! Dish good. Very good this.
- Not good, Hafiz. In the microwave. Problem.
And of course the guy did not understand a thing, so I used all my smart didactic strategic knowledge and set a plate with the golden thingys in the microwave for 3 seconds. It sparked everywhere, it seemed the microwave would explode.
Hafiz, frightened, ducked under the table, to save himself.
When I finished my demonstration, I looked at him and smiled proudly - my point was proven!
Hafiz had no doubts:
- Madame. I see problem. No worry - I change microwave.
And he left with the microwave under his arms ...