The Rude Brit at Sukhumvit Soi 15 pharmacy

[Mike_Hunt]

The humid air of Bangkok buzzed with the usual chaos of Sukhumvit Road—street vendors calling out their prices, motorbikes weaving through traffic, and the distant hum of music spilling out from bars. Inside a small, brightly lit drugstore on Soi 15, a young Thai woman named May was organizing the shelves behind the counter, humming softly to herself. The chime above the door jingled, and in walked a short, red-faced British man in his late sixties. His dress shirt was untucked, slightly damp from the heat, and his expensive watch gleamed under the fluorescent lights. He walked straight to the counter, his steps heavy with impatience.

 

“Oi! You there, missy,” he barked, slapping a bottle of cough syrup onto the counter. “What’s the bloody point of this? It’s all in Thai. How’s anyone supposed to read it?”

 

May blinked, taken aback by his tone. “Sir, this is Thai medicine, but I can help you understand. This one is for dry cough—”

 

“I don’t need a bloody lesson, love. Just give me something stronger,” he interrupted, rubbing his forehead. “Back home, I’d have proper medicine, not this herbal rubbish.”

 

May took a deep breath, forcing a polite smile. “We have imported medicine, but I need to know your symptoms to recommend the right one.”

The Brit scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Oh, come on. Just give me whatever’s strongest. Christ, customer service here is useless.”

 

At that moment, an older Thai man, who had been browsing the shelves, stepped forward. His sharp suit and composed demeanor contrasted with the foreigner’s growing irritation.

“Excuse me, Mate,” the older man said calmly but firmly. “She’s trying to help you. There’s no need to be rude.”

 

The Brit turned to face him, his expression shifting between arrogance and surprise. “Oh, what? Now I’m getting lectured?”

 

“Yes,” the older man said simply. “Because in Thailand, we respect those who serve us. If you don’t like it, perhaps you should go back to where your medicine labels make sense to you.”

The drugstore fell silent. May’s heart pounded, unsure of how the foreigner would react. For a moment, his face twisted in frustration, but then he scoffed, grabbed the bottle of cough syrup, and tossed a few crumpled baht notes on the counter.

 

“Whatever,” he muttered, storming out into the Bangkok day.

 

May let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She turned to the older man and gave him a grateful wai.

“Thank you, sir.”

 

He smiled. “You handled yourself well. People like him come and go. But respect, young lady—that stays with you forever.”

And with that, he picked up his own purchase and walked out, disappearing into the streets of Sukhumvit.

[ChumpChange]

100% AI drivel you Big Hunt!

[Woke to Sounds of Horking]

Who needs writers or journalists anymore eh?

 

Obsolete occupations with Big A.I. at the helm buddy.