Bitter Sweets

At The Podium with the whole family to celebrate Father’s Day, I was getting bored waiting for our lunch to arrive so I decided to step out of the restaurant and walk around a bit. I went to the Leonida’s stand where they sell extremely expensive genuine Belgian chocolates—imported daily from Belgium no less, all the better to justify their exorbitant prices.

I had been warned of how expensive they were and I did see the sign: 45-something pesos per gram. But I thought, “Gee, how heavy are they? How much grams can a small truffle weigh?”

So without any further thought I told the lady behind the counter, “Four of those, and four of those, and three… no, make that four of those too.” Twelve pieces, because all in all we were eleven and I wanted an extra piece.

The lady placed the foursomes in three separate bags, and placed them on this high-tech weighing scale. I saw the total amount in pesos flashed on the indicator. And the lady just had to announce loudly so that the people around could hear, “Nine hundred twenty pesos, sir.”

Nine fucking hundred pesos for twelve pieces of candy?!

Only my Piscean acting skills and unflappable nature saved me from an embarrassing situation. “Please have them wrapped,” I said without batting an eyelash while pulling out my wallet. She placed all three in a big, expensive-looking paper bag.

Back at the restaurant instead of offering the chocolates to everybody I just placed the bag of candies aside. “What’s that?” my sister asked, curious. “For later at home,” I whispered. By that time my younger sister, her husband, my older brother, his wife and my nephew and niece would have gone back to their respective homes.

I swear one day I will get my sweet(s) revenge. I’ll fly to Belgium and charge an arm and a leg for every gram of Choc-Nut, Serg and Curly Tops.