There is a magical place I like to eat sometimes, called KFC. (No matter what "KFC" stands for in America, it stands for Kampuchea Food Corporation in Cambodia. The fact that Colonel Sanders' elderly visage is on all the merchandise is just some strange coincidence.)
Why do I say it's magical? Because things have a way of changing over night. A couple of months ago, I walked in one morning after class, only to discover that the menu had been completely overhauled, the interior design had changed, and the uniforms had changed color. It completely unnerved me, because the store hadn't looked that way the night before, nor had I seed any indication that it would be changed around. Now that's a pretty nifty trick!
And just yesterday I stopped in for some chicken and rice after school...and promptly discovered that KFC now charges 10% tax on every purchase. At least, they charge foreigners 10% tax on every purchase--as if I don't already pay 10% taxes on income, and two-to-ten times whatever locals pay at every establishment I patronise. In addition to the exorbitant visa fees I have to pay just to live in the country, as well as the excessive traffic fines that only white people seem to get slammed with.
And yes, in case you're wondering, I really have developed a persecution complex...because on some days, it really does feel like everyone's out to take advantage of my wallet. KFC is not helping with this one.
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