Almost done. Whew. I seem to be taking ages to finish this tag.

So 6.

I am allergic to two things:

First, Maths and anything to do with numbers.

This is kind of easily solved. I married a banker and so if any counting has to be done, I just defer to him. When I worked for a finance magazine, I used to just call him and ask him to calculate stuff.

And thanks to the Internet, you can just Google “calculate percentage” and there are sites that will do just that. I’m always super impressed when I see salesgirls telling you the price of something when the tag says % off right away. I always just ask for the price after the discount – even though it earns me some strange looks sometimes because apparently calculating 10% off is supposed to be very easy – instead of calculating myself though it would have been useful to just instinctively know the way Math-type people can.

And the beauty of living in Hong Kong is that one never has to count change. The Octopus card means most of the time the amount is just deducted automatically. And otherwise too people just don’t cheat on change.

I have to say though even in India I usually don’t count change – and the two times I did, the change was wrong. The first time was in Munnar at some chai shop and I was really shocked when I realised – too late – that I hadn’t got back the correct change because somehow I naively expected rustic people (patronising I know) to be honest… the Romantic notion of the “noble savage” and all that. Now it suddenly makes sense to me – some 10 years after my English Lit. degree – why the Romantics were called Romantic.*

Ok this was supposed to be a short post but being at work and actually – ironically – having the time to actually do such faffage as blogging means I have contracted verbal diarrhea (ugh wanted to spell it the other way with oe… there I go again… I am going to stop now…

and

the second allergy, if you remember by now that there was one, will be no. 7.

Amen. (Till the next post).

 

*And that reminds me of this priceless moment in Prof. Eunice de Souza’s class where she randomly (or probably not so randomly) picked on this clueless girl (or cabbage as she would call us)  and asked her what the characteristics of Romantic poetry were and the woman, who clearly had no idea and had been discussing the latest in handbag fashion with her neighbour, decided to wing it and went on brazenly about love, feelings etc. while everyone else tried frantically to somehow indicate to her with their expressions to just STFU and sit down and Eunice’s face got more and more thunderous, finally ending in a “sit down cabbage” or similar crucifyingly cold put-down.

 

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