(I work in a major sandwich franchise in Canada.)

Me: “Hi there, welcome to [store]. What can I get started for you today?”

Customer: “Yeah, you guys have the chicken sandwich for $5 dollars this month, right?”

Me: “No, sir, that promotion is actually only available in the US at the moment.”

Customer: “What? What are you talking about? Since when has there ever been a difference?”

Me: “Well, promotions and prices have always been different between the two countries. I think that’s how it’s always been for large franchises.”

Customer: “I still want the promoted price I saw on the commercial.”

Me: “Is it possible that you were watching an American channel when you saw this commercial sir?”

Customer: “Of course not! I only watch Canadian television! What do I look like to you, some kind of Yankee?”

Me: “What channel were you watching, sir?”

Customer: “Fox News.”

Me: “That’s an American channel sir.”

Customer: “Oh… well…”

(He ended up ordering the sandwich he wanted, and he paid the marked-up price for it.)

(I’m at the cash register; a lady walks up and plunks six different paperbacks on the counter.)

Customer: “Which one is the best? I only want to buy one today.”

Me: “Well, that depends on your tastes. Is there a particular genre that you’re interested in?”

Customer: “No, I mean which one did you like the best?”

Me: “Well, I haven’t read these particular books, but I can tell you which one is most popular right now…”

Customer: “Of course you’ve read them all. You work here, right? You have to know what you’re selling!”

Me: “Ma’am, we sell thousands of different books; there’s just no way I can read them all.”

Customer: “You’re not doing your job! You have to know! Now tell me which book was the best!”

Me: *points randomly* “…that one.”

Customer: “Thanks!”

(I witness a medium-sized customer, wearing a business suit, ordering coffee.)

Customer: “I thought I told you to make a double-double with milk, not this swill with cream!”

Cashier: “I’m sorry, sir. I’ll remake it for you.”

Customer: “D*** f****** right you will. Morons like you shouldn’t even have a job.”

Me: “Hey! The lady made a mistake and she’s remaking it for you. Calm the h*** down.”

Customer: “Screw you buddy. She didn’t make it right—”

Me: “That doesn’t give you the right to be a complete a**. Shut up and take your drink.”

Customer: “And just what are you going to do about it?”

(I fully stand up. I am a heavy-set, 6’2″ guy. I grab him by the tie and yank him to towards me. I speak very calmly.)

Me: “I just lost my job. I’m in a bad mood. I want my tea so I can read in peace and try to cheer myself up. If you want to really know what I can do, keep talking. I’ll fold you into a pretzel.”

(The customer turns deathly white. He reels around and runs out the door. I make my way up to the register.)

Me: “Steeped tea. Double-double with milk. Double cupped please.”

Cashier: “No problem.”

(A customer in line behind me speaks up.)

Customer #2: “I’ll have the same, and I’ll pay for both.”

Me: “You don’t need to do that, sir.”

Customer #2: “You defended that woman, even after dealing with some pretty horrible news. Don’t worry about it.”

Me: “Well… if you insist.”

(Customer #2 pays for my tea and sits down with me, asking about what I did for a living. Turns out, his store is looking for a new computer-tech, and he offers me the job right there. Lesson learned? Don’t underestimate the power of sticking up for people.)

(I am behind two boys in line. They pile a bunch of coolers on the counter, and try to pay with American money.)

Cashier: “Could I see some ID, please?”

(Boy #1 waves his hand like Obi-Wan.)

Boy #1: “Oh, you don’t need to see our IDs.”

Cashier: “Uh, actually, I do.”

Boy #2: “It’s okay; we’re both 21!”

Cashier: “Drinking age in Ontario is 19.”

Boy #2: “Oh. Well, we’re both 19, then.”

Cashier: “Do you even have identification?”

Boy #1: “Fine! Here!”

(He throws a card on the counter.)

Cashier: “The government doesn’t consider this valid ID.”

Boy #1: “OH COME ON!”

Cashier: “…and this American state driver’s licence says you’re 16.”

Boy #2: “F****** Canadians!”

(I work at a call centre located in Canada, but our focus is verifying orders placed for long distance phone service with a particular company in America, so all our incoming calls originate from there. I am on a call with a man from a Southern state.)

Caller: “Where are you from?”

Me: “We’re located in Canada, sir.”

Caller: “Oh wow, you must see a lot of moose up there then?”

Me: “Well, maybe more so out west, sir. But we are in Southern Ontario. There aren’t really any moose here.”

Caller: “You must have a lot of snow, right?”

Me: *it’s currently summer* “Yes, during the winter we can get lots of snow.”

Caller: “How do you power your call centre?”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir? We use electricity.”

Caller: “Wouldn’t the heat from electricity melt the igloos?”

(I have to mute my headset as I laugh and try to compose myself. I want so badly to joke with him, but our calls are recorded.)

Me: “No, sir. We live in houses and buildings in cities just like you. Even way up north I don’t think you’d find any igloos anymore.”

Caller: “Really? Oh. What were you asking me again?”

(We resume the call as normal, but at the after our goodbyes, he jumps in.)

Caller: “Wait! If I give you my email, can you send me a picture of a moose?”

Me: “I’m sorry, I can’t do that.”

Caller: “Aw, how come?”

Me: “Because it’s against company policy and the moose are camera shy. Have a great day, sir!”

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