‘Let’s go Dutch’

My Pakistani colleague was thrilled when a new Western editor invited him to his birthday party at a posh club in Dubai. My colleague reached the club in a taxi and had a gala time. He also carried a nice gift. When the party was over, the editor cheerfully declared, “Thanks buddies for joining. Let’s go Dutch.” My colleague had to pay for his food. He thanked his stars he did not overindulge.
I have also come across such situations. I did mention to you about the “sexy sanyasin” I wanted to interview for my newspaper in Mumbai. She suggested meeting at a classy coffee house in South Mumbai. She had coffee and snacks and when the bill arrived, used her smile charm.
“Shall I pay?”
“Oh, so nice of you RR.”
Nice of me? Bull. My salary was peanuts those days, as ever.
Talking of misers (hey I am not, ask my true friends), I know of a guy who walked two hours around midnight in Chennai to save taxi fare. Just when he was about to reach home, he realized his pocket had been picked at a roadside tea shop.
I also remember visiting a “maha kanjoos” (king of misers) relative. I entered the restroom and shouted at my wife to switch on the light from outside as I could not see anything. “Stupid, the light is already on,” she answered. I noticed a dim, tiny bulb that was less radiant than a candle. The relative was “saving on electricity bill” this way.