The Food They Deserve
My brother speaks Mandarin Chinese fluently. He had already lived in Taiwan for seven years when this little episode happened. This was many years ago, when it was very unusual for a Westerner to speak Chinese.
He and I were in a taxi in Beijing one night. We gave our instructions to the driver in English and chatted together only in English, so the driver of course naturally assumed neither of us spoke Chinese.
A few minutes into the ride the driver offered us a cigarette. We waved him off politely. He then said, according to my brother, “Only weaklings don’t smoke.”
Along the way the driver would point out places, saying, in a mock-friendly voice, things like, “That’s where foreign idiots are given the bad and spoiled food they deserve.” My brother would report all of this to me with bemusement. At the end of the ride, the driver tried to overcharge us.
My brother for the first time spoke Mandarin, pointing out the correct amount on the meter and telling the driver he was making note of his name and taxi license number.
The driver’s eyes got huge with fear, he literally jumped out of the taxi and ran to open my brother’s door, apologizing in a desperate voice and bowing over and over, trembling (no, bowing is not part of Chinese culture).
My brother said the driver probably figured any guy who spoke Mandarin would have the connections to make his life misery. We just shrugged it off, had a good laugh.