Waiting to enter the men’s toilet, who do I see exit from the room but Doris herself. She had decided to check out the condition of the toilets, and seeing that some person had left the men’s room in a pretty sorry state, she had locked herself in and proceeded to clean up the floor and the area around the sink herself. I joked that she was either the best-dressed toilet attendant I had ever encountered, the one with the highest ITR, the most expensive Rikki and Ricco can hire, or all of the above.
Having invested in a venture such as Kai and not having the restaurant management know-how of her partners did not make Doris feel her role was to just sign the checks or "count the money." When she discovered the toilet floor was wet, she placed reams of toilet paper under her shoe and wiped the floor dry. I never asked her if Blahniks or Jimmy Choos do a better clean-up job but I was heartened by the fact that she had no qualms about this menial task and rather than call for someone, she buckled down and did it herself.
While the stereotype of those born with a silver spoon in their mouth (who won’t do a stroke of work and who treat the world like it should serve them hand and foot) does exist for a reason, there are several out there who are enterprising, who take a "hands-on" approach to their ventures. It’s encouraging to see that. Consider Irene Martel-Francisco, she could just as easily kick back, relax, and just run Harrison Plaza by automatic pilot. But having invested in food businesses like Ten Noodles, she takes each opening very seriously, going over every detail and welcoming the guests from the press herself.
The menu of Ten Noodles is something Irene took a personal hand in creating and I was really surprised–given the prices–how excellent the dishes were. Irene knows that this no-nonsense, hands-on approach is the recipe for success.
And if one has a sweet tooth, make a beeline for Bizu, post-haste. From a sinful "cart" stand selling pastries in Glorietta, Annabel Lichaytoo Tanco has now expanded Bizu into a patisserie (beside Kai at Greenbelt 2), whose bright colors complement the delectable selection of macaroons, cakes, breads and so on.
Annabel should be familiar with the finer things in life. She is sister to Alex and Clifford Lichaytoo of Bacchus (the wine importer) and Lavazza (the bestselling Italian coffee) fame. Along with husband Arthur, Annabel has come up trumps. People rave about the little cakes and the special ensaymadas. And that’s she omnipresent in this venture, augurs well for the kind of service we can expect, now that they’ve gone into serving hot food and full meals.
Wonder who I’m going to bump into next on my way to the men’s room?
By the way, if you find Kai’s menu a bit on the pricey side, check out O’sake. It’s a hole-in-the-wall eatery one finds under the steakhouse W (across the street entrance of Glorietta 3, where Bio Research and the old Goldcrest are found). Think of a Japanese version of "Kitchen." The food’s really tasty and prices are very reasonable.
White men can’t jump; black men can’t... swim?
Caught this in the news the other day. A Florida Police Department was being accused of racism against Blacks because they were requiring applicants to undergo a swimming test. Which got me thinking–if this is Florida and it’s some town by the sea, it could make sense that you’d like your law enforcement officers to have some kind of proficiency in the water. Of course, for equal opportunity’s sake, you could also institute a basketball test?
Some people with whom I shared this news item to were kind of lost on why the swimming test would have racial overtones. Okay, name me two black swimmers from any of the US Olympic teams, dating back to Ancient Greece for all I care. One swimmer? Even in golf–other than Lee Elder in the ’70s and now, Tiger Woods–how many touring pros of Afro-American lineage readily come to mind? Some renowned golf clubs in the Deep South still won’t allow women or Blacks to apply as members. The reasoning there I’d surmise would be you don’t want to be confused between members and caddies. So much for the enlightened society America likes to claim as her heritage. In some quarters, it’s still the in-lightened (skin) society.
Then my warped mind stumbled on a possible reason for the swimming test. Say it is some beach front town and the Police (pronounced POE-LEASE) Department had some Baywatch type patrol. All them good ole white boys were probably thinking, "We put them black boys in these skimpy trunks and we gonna have to issue one athletic sock to every genu-wine redneck, just for stuffing down the front of his trunks. Otherwise, we might end up looking poorly ‘equipped.’ Can’t let that happen!"
Let’s face it, racial stereotypes and prejudices don’t die easily. Even here in the Philippines, I overheard something recently on a talk show that blew me away. Some woman guest was saying that when in the throes of love-making, she liked her lover to be all sweaty and funky. And one of the hosts said, as an aside, "Ay! Amoy-bombay!" and I’m there thinking, is this a primetime example of politically incorrect or what? In the US, that would have brought out the Anti-India Defamation League in full force, armed with dancing cobras, and ready to bang a sitar on the poor host’s head.
To this day, some yayas, told not to use ghosts or aswangs, will scare their wards into good behavior or submission by saying some turbaned fellow will come and take them away. They can hardly refer to some Chinaman, as more often than not, the ward will already have a Chinese surname. Can you imagine how this child will react when he or she finally encounters someone of Indian persuasion? Scary, that this kind of thing is still tolerated, or glossed over as no big deal. Is it any wonder that so little assimilation is still achieved between Christians and Muslims down south?