Reading R.K. Narayan

From "New York Days" in The Dateless Diary

YESTERDAY, at the self-service cafeteria, I made the mistake of waiting for someone to ask what I wanted. Today I know better. You enter the cafeteria, pull out a 'check' (on which prices are punched) from a machine, pick up a tray and spoons, and study the various dishes displayed on the long counter under a glass cover, trying to judge what's what and how far a vegetarian could venture--whether that attractive yellow stuff might not be some prohibited food such as lobster; the men here evidently do not like anyone to stare so long at their display; one of them asks in a surly manner, 'What do you want?'