Day 1 in the US

My first day in the US was not supposed to start early. After all, I had a journey across half the hemisphere. Akash & I had stayed up late night catching up about the past 8 months and our good old days in Chennai. Yet I woke up at 6 am. Not sure if it was due to a new place, or if it was due to the time zone gap. Soon I realized what was wrong. A gigantic figure was sitting next to me, and howling at a laptop screen through his headphones “Madhuri, do you hear me? Do you hear me Madhuri?”

I stumbled out of the bedroom, and found Aki’s other roommate Pradip in the kitchen. I enquired about the gigantic figure I just saw.

“Don’t worry” assured Pradip. “That’s just Garu.”

“What is a Garu” I had to ask.

“Well, that’s just a nickname we have given him respectfully,” explained Pradip.

“And why is he here?” I had to ask

“Well, he was our roommate, who got married and shifted to his apartment. He used to stay in that very room before moving” clarified Pradip.

“But why is he not in his apartment but howling next to me?” I was still wondering

“You see dude, it seems a marriage certificate is mandatory to get a dependent visa these days. Garu had just a 2 week leave to get married. Within that short time frame, he did not get the certificate. So his wife didn’t get the visa.” Pradip sighed “Poor chap, so he comes here every day to video chat with his wife”

“But he can do that from his apartment as well, can’t he?”

Pradip looked shocked “Why should he take an internet line just for himself? He needs it just for an hour every morning and evening. He can use it from here.” He explained “and he pays 20% of the internet charges too”

I understood finally. Pradip made me understand few more things in the next hour. Firstly, I was very lucky to find an apartment to share from my day 1, that too with desi roommates, and specially someone I knew from India. Next, I also understood from him that a dollar was not just a dollar; it was about 45 Indian Rupees. Therefore, we should take utmost care spending each dollar, and wherever possible find means of sharing expenses and reducing expenses. To that extend we should drink soft drinks instead of water and beer instead of fruit juice to minimize expenses. He also explained that we should always cook food and carry it to office, and never buy lunch from outside.

“Now you see the kind of idiots I live with…” yawned Akash, emerging from his room. “That is why I need some sensible roommates like you.” he paused to look at the watch. Next, he unleashed his usual volley of invectives urging as to get ready quickly. “And don’t you dare pack any food for lunch.” He warned, explaining I need to explore the eating options near office.

Our office was at the heart of downtown Seattle, and there was a beautiful view of the waterfront from our 23^rd floor cafeteria. More important that the good scenery was the fact we had a good manager. Satya, our manager, was known as a pleasant person who hardly lost patience with anyone. He was also known as a person who appreciated all his employees without any bias, and mentored everyone’s career. After the initial introduction, he asked me about my goals.

I replied, “I heard that the Seattle downtown has American, Thai, Vietnamese, Chinese, Mexican, Korean, Malaysian and Italian cuisines. I want to try these all in next 2 weeks.”

Satya looked a bit irked with my response “I was asking about long term goals. What do you want to be in couple of years from now?”

I was told earlier that Satya was a manager who always respected honest answers. Therefore, I told him “Being an underweight guy that I am, I want to be heavier by ten to fifteen pounds at the least in a couple of years from now”.

At this point Satya really looked resigned in his endeavor to identify my career path. He just wished me luck with my food hunt and sank to his chair. He was so much shocked by this foodie, I learnt he had spent rest of the day just eating salads. Soon it was lunchtime, the hour I was eagerly awaiting. Akash was busy in a meeting, so I set forth on my adventure by myself armed only with his directions.

After some exploration, I decided to try American cuisine, since it was my first day on American soil. As they say, “When In Rome, do as the Romans do”. I was a big fan of sandwiches and burgers, and the menu looked tempting. Further analysis on the menu revealed to me that a twelve-inch sandwich costs just 20% more than a six-inch one. I also realized that fish was more expensive than all kinds of meat, but the real shocker was veggie sandwich being costlier than meat. Finally, I made up my mind to eat Tuna sandwich, and that is when all the trouble started.

The woman at the counter shot a volley of questions that I could not understand at all. I thought it could be due to accent issue. Therefore, I slowly uttered “T-U-N-A”. She shot the same volley of questions again. I was perplexed, I had told her twelve inch, I had told tuna, what else could she possibly be asking? On her third attempt, I figured out her questions. She was asking if I wanted “White bread, wheat bread, Italian bread or herbs n cheese”.

I was confused. Back in India, I have eaten at multiple restaurants. No one ever asked me whether I wanted basmati rice or Dehradun rice or just boiled rice whenever I ordered chicken fried rice. No one ever asked me options on atta or maida whenever I ordered parathas at a dhaba. But what to do, “In Rome, do as the Romans”. I didn’t want to show that I was new here. I told with an air of importance “give me the ideal bread for tuna sandwich”

She looked very embarrassed “unfortunately sir, we don’t have any ideal bread with us. We do have white bread, wheat bread, Italian bread or herbs n cheese if you like”

I had to surrender. I admitted that I was new and didn’t have much idea about American cuisines. “So you can just give me regular bread” I told her.

She looked even more embarrassed “unfortunately sir, we do not have the regular bread either. But we do have white bread, wheat bread, Italian bread or herbs n cheese. I would be very happy if you like to choose any of these”

I was at the tipping point now. Could not afford to think more on a hungry stomach. I spent my childhood to youth on white breads, so that sounded the safest choice. I asked her for white bread. To my utter dismay, the woman shot another volley of questions. I had told the size of bread, the type of bread, what more could she need to know?

After couple of attempts, I understood she was asking “Mozarella, Cheddar, Italian, Swiss or American”. I didn’t know about the first couple of words, but the last 3 options made it clear. She was asking my nationality. It was a natural question. After all, US being the land of opportunities had a cosmopolitan mix of immigrants from all corners of the planet. I proudly declared “Indian.”

The woman let out an embarrassed smile again “unfortunately sir, we don’t have Indian here. But we do have Mozarella, Cheddar, Italian, Swiss or American if you would like to choose one” she offered.

I figured out she is not interested in my nationality. Nevertheless, what did she want me to choose? Was she offering my citizenship of these countries? However, a sandwich shop hardly seemed a logical place for distributing citizenship of countries, no matter how much easy things were in the land of opportunities. Clearly, this adventure was proving to be tougher than I had thought.

“Give me whichever is good.” I offered my response carefully.

She declared proudly “everything is good sir, if it was not good, I wouldn’t have offered to you in the first place sir. We will be glad to provide Mozarella, Cheddar, Italian, Swiss or American if you like so”.

“When in Rome, do as the Romans do.” I reminded myself. “This is the America, what harm can come out of choosing the word American?” I thought.

The woman was very excited hearing my response, and I saw her taking out a box of cheese from a heap of boxes. Who knew there were so many types of cheese available!

The adventure was not yet over. I had to face few more volleys of questions and every response was bringing me a step closer to my sandwich. At last, I faced the final question “your total is five dollars and thirty cents sir. How would you like to pay?”

I courteously gave her options “well, I have debit card, forex card and cash. What do you prefer?” I asked.

“Anything is fine sir” she replied.

Hereby, I saw my opportunity to settle scores. I gave my reply “Unfortunately Madam, I don’t have an ‘anything’ with me today. I would have gladly used the 'anything' if I had one. What I do have today is debit card, forex card and cash. What do you prefer?”

The bewildered look of the woman stuck in my memory for ages. Well “When in Rome, do as the Romans do” and “when in a sandwich shop, do as the sandwich providers do”!