Kyong, Like Me!
My brother John informed my mom that he was heading to the Korean grocery store to pick up some groceries, and, as usual, she gave specific instructions on what he was supposed to buy for maximum Asian deliciousness. This time around, she tried to force him to make a vanity purchase.
Apparently there’s a brand of Asian rice called “Kyong” or Kyong-Gi” or something. Kyong happens to be the first name of my little Korean mom. Upon hearing about this product, she got very excited and told John to buy it.
Mom: “You buy Kyong rice! Like me!”
John went to the Korean grocery store and scoured the rice aisle but found no Kyong rice. He called up Mom to tell her they didn’t have any.
Mom: “Whaaaaat! You sure?”
John: “Yes, I don’t see it.”
Mom, suspicious: “You look?:
John, sighing: “Yes, of course I looked.”
Mom: “Ask manager.”
John: “I don’t know who the manager is.”
Mom: “He short Korean guy. Dark hair. Little skinny guy.”
John: “Mom, you’ve just described every man who works here.”
Eventually he was able to find the store manager. With Mom still on the phone, he approached the man.
John: “Heyyy…so, uh, my mom is the pepper woman.”
The manager’s face lit up. My mother has quite the reputation. “Oh yeah! Pepper woman! What’s up?”
John: “I’m looking for the Kyong-Gi rice.”
The manager went to the rice section and inspected various pallets. At this point, Mom insisted on talking to the manager, so John handed over the phone. A detailed conversation ensued in Korean while my brother looked on. The manager looked at John and said in English, “Ohhh, that’s your son! He really tall.”
After more dialogue, he offered my brother his sincerest apologies for being out of Mom’s vanity brand of rice and offered a comparable product. No word on whether the manager “mysteriously disappeared” after John’s trip to the store, but I wouldn’t be surprised. Nobody messes with the Cha’s Kyong-G rice.