the cost of social status - amavi

Flashy from outside. Somewhat tastefully decorated inside. He couldn’t make up his mind. “Go see if they have a table.” “Ugh, do we have to? It’s probably not good anyways.” Finding silence as a response he gave in, but made one last attempt to make it bearable. “Ok, but he has to come with me.” He didn’t feel bad about throwing his brother under the bus. He was selfish that way. They got out of the car, and walked the few yards to the restaurant. Guards everywhere. Drivers everywhere. Funny to think how things change. This place in front of the park had had a barbershop just a few years ago. Otherwise it was empty. Then some socialites bought one of the plots. Opened up a small cute cafe. The barbershop closed. Maybe he was messing up the order. He was probably messing up the order. They parked their big, fancy cars outside all the time. People were attracted. People came in. Then another shop opened. The ‘desert directory’. Quickly followed by a few more. Now it was a hip and happening place. But this place, he was already biased towards it. Flashy, tacky gold sign with the name, pretending to be classy. He sighed, and took control over his wandering thoughts. Maybe he shouldn’t judge it. He walked in. The music was non existent. Great sign. The conversations were loud. Falsetto tones. Not so good. He walked in and asked if they had a spot. Waiters scurrying around. He asked again, louder. One stopped and said they’d have to check. He walked into the second room and asked the lady behind the counter in Urdu. She responded in the English that those trying to show off that they too could be, and were a part of the elite, had. He sighed internally and answered in English. She asked him to wait and asked a waiter. No, there was no space. How long was the wait. About an hour and a half. Would you like to put your name on the list? No, uhh, yeah sure. They walked back outside. Into the car. “Go get something. [redacted] aunty said it was really good.” Ugh. Ok sure. Walked back inside, grabbed some random items. Not random. They were carefully selected by the two self described food aficionados, paid the bill - damn, that was expensive - and went back outside. The sun was high in the sky. The park was sparsely populated. In the car, very excited about the food. He opened the bag, and then paused. “There’s a hair in here.” And then he burst out laughing. “No, I’m not going to go have it switched. You should bear the torture of the wait.” The rest of it was decent. But not something to write home about. Funny thing about this society and people in general, we don’t really tell you how we feel. Admitting that something that everyone else says is good, admitting that you don’t like it, or admitting that it might actually be bad, is social suicide. Some people feel like it’s tantamount to admitting you have bad taste. Which is the same thing. It’s hilarious.