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    French Disconnection

    | Quebec City, QC, Canada | Bigotry, Geography, History, Language & Words, Top

    (I’m a customer in a very small boutique that specializes in selling Quebec-made items. It is a slow day and I am alone with the shop owner who helps me choose a gift. A man storms in and goes straight to the owner with a really angry face. The owner sees him and welcomes him in French.)

    Owner: “Bonjour, Monsieur. Comment puis-je vous aider?” *Hi, sir. How can I help you?*

    Customer: *loud and angrily* “ENGLISH! Do you even speak it?”

    Owner: “Of course, sir! How are you today and how can I help you?”

    Customer: “Finally! Someone who’s speaking English! I don’t know what the h*** is going on but everyone in this f***** town is speaking some kind of weird gibberish!”

    Owner: “Actually, they are speaking French, sir, as do most people in the province of Quebec.”

    Customer: “What the h***?! We are not in f***** France! This is America and people speaks god d*** American! I don’t understand what the fuss is about! Is this some kind of a weird hipster thing? Young people trying to be cool or whatever?!”

    Owner: “I’m sorry, sir. Is there anything I can do to help you today?”

    Customer: “Yeah, I’m looking for a poutine recipe book. Do you have any?”

    Owner: “Of course! Right this way, sir.”

    Customer: “Why do people want to speak French anyway? It is a dead language like Latin or Greek. We are in America and America is for American speakers! We don’t need no foreigners to come here and bring their weird language. And you shouldn’t encourage them by greeting American customers, in America, with any other language than American!”

    Owner: “I’m sorry, sir, but I can no longer pretend that what you are saying is not wrong. Just so you know, people are speaking in French because Quebec was colonized by France more than 400 years ago. Quebec City is actually the oldest city in North America and has always been French. That is why everything from the street names to the billboards are in French! The Canadian dollar you’re holding is in both languages. Even the name poutine is French! Did you do any research before coming here?”

    Customer: *hesitating* “Well, yeah! But the brochure was in English! How was I supposed to know that poutine was a French word. We have that in New York!”

    Owner: “First of all, you can find pretzels in New York and those are German, or gelato which is Italian! It just proves that languages get mixed and influenced with time. That is also why there are cities in the United States that have French names, such as Baton Rouge or Des Moines! Those are all proofs that the French were present in North America hundreds of years ago! H***! Even the term ‘brochure’ is French!”

    Customer: “That is irrelevant! You are all just lazy for not learning American! You live in the past, holding to some old bull-s*** language!”

    Owner: “Well, I AM speaking English! And, by the way, it is ‘English’ and not ‘American’ because that language originated from England and not America. But I am also speaking French. How many languages do you speak?”

    Customer: “I speak English and English only! I don’t need to know any other language!”

    Owner: “Who’s being lazy, then?”

    Credited Childsplay

    | USA | Crazy Requests, Family & Kids, Theme Of The Month, Top

    (I work for a service that answers phones for TV commercials. One commercial in particular is giving us all fits! It is for a cup that freezes sweet liquids into slush-ice. The kids have been calling in, in DROVES, trying to get one. The offer is to be paid with a credit card and you have to be 18 or over to get it. This caller sounds like a five year old.)

    Me: “Thank you for calling for [Cup Product]! How may I help you?”

    Caller: “Yeah. I wanna [Cup Product] thing.”

    Me: “Ma’am, do you have a credit card?”

    Caller: “Yeah. It’s 123456789.”

    Me: “I’m sorry, but that is not a card number. How old are you?”

    Caller: “Uh… I’m a hundred.”

    Me: “Ma’am, please get your mommy to come to the phone. If you want a [Cup Product], you have to have an adult with a credit card.”

    Caller: *getting crafty* “Uh, well, I already ordered it an’ used my Mommy’s—uh, my card. So, you can send it. Okay?”

    Me: “Now look, honey… You need to have an ADULT come to the phone. Go get someone older.”

    Caller: “Okay.”

    (There is the sound of the receiver being put down, then instantly picked up again. I hear the same voice, now pitched much lower.)

    Caller: “Hello? This is my Daddy. Please send me the [Cup Product] thingy, please!”

    A Bad Hair Day

    | FL, USA | At The Checkout, Bigotry, Family & Kids, Health & Body, Top

    (It is Christmas Eve. I have just finished a very difficult 13-hour shift, with a 2-hour commute to the small town I live just outside of. I am picking up milk. My hair is cropped short, and though I am very skinny, my uniform is shapeless except for the back brace I am wearing. As I get in line, a very drunk customer behind me turns to another customer.)

    Drunk Customer: “Can you believe this [lesbian slur]? Look at her! She can at least clean herself up before coming into our town! What a fat useless c***! She’s wearing a d*** girdle! Ha! That fat will melt right off when she goes to Hell!”

    (The drunk customer continues berating the way I look, and throwing insults over his shoulder. Finally I have had enough. I set my milk on the conveyor belt and spin around to face the man.)

    Me: “Let’s get a few things straight! First, this is a back brace, not a girdle! I wear it because I was born with a deformed pelvis and spine, and I can very easily paralyze myself with improper body mechanics. Secondly, I have been with my MALE fiancé for five years. But at least you are right about one thing. I would look a h*** of a lot better with my hair long. I used to have long, beautiful, full curls. So beautiful, in fact, my six-year-old niece would cry every time I visited her because she lost all of her hair when she started chemo for her leukemia. So for Christmas, I cut off all of my long feminine curls and have had them made into a wig so she doesn’t have to feel ugly when she goes to school. I just thank God she lives two towns over, because after what you’ve said about me, I can’t imagine what you and the rest of the people here like you would say to a sad, sick little girl!”

    (The next time I went back to pick up a few things, the manager approached me. It turned out the entire staff had donated to my niece’s cancer treatment!)

    Self Checkout Is Soul Destroying

    | MI, USA | At The Checkout, Bizarre, Technology, Top

    (I am working the control center for the self checkouts when I overhear a customer having a conversation with the self checkout machine.)

    Self Checkout: “Are you using your own bags?”

    Customer: “NO. I’M USING THE SOULS OF SMALL CHILDREN. WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT THAT?!”

    Self Checkout: “Please place the item in the bagging area.”

    Putting The Situation On To A Knife-Edge

    | Canada | At The Checkout, Criminal/Illegal, Top, Wild & Unruly

    (I am a customer at a party store, picking up a Halloween costume. The store sells not only costumes, but also toys, props, things for pranks, etc. As I’m getting ready to leave, a gruff-looking customer enters and marches up to the counter.)

    Customer: *pulls out a gun and aims it at the cashier* “Give me all the money or I’ll blow your f****** head off!”

    (Frightened, the cashier starts doing as told, while the other customers are shocked and unmoving. I recognize the gun as not real, but sadly the cashier does not. The customer isn’t paying attention to me. I sneak over to a shelf, pick up a certain item, and quietly remove it from its packaging while he keeps yelling. Eventually, I sneak up behind him.)

    Customer: “Hurry the f*** up! I don’t have all f****** d—”

    (I suddenly shove the stage knife I have unpackaged against his throat from behind.)

    Me: “Drop the gun or I swear to god I will slit your throat right here and now!”

    (Shaking, the man slowly puts the gun on the counter. I grab it with my free hand, just in case. The cashier calls the police, and when they arrive, she explains what happened to them. They arrest the man.)

    Me: “Hey. Before you take him away can I show him something?”

    Officer: “I don’t see why not.”

    (I hold up the fake knife, turn it, and plunge it into my stomach. The fake blade retracts into the handle and does nothing to me. I show him the knife again, and his eyes widen.)

    Me: *in a singsong tone* “Plastic!”

    (The customer was taken away looking both embarrassed and ticked off. The cashier let me keep the fake knife and gave me a discount on the costume I had come in to purchase. All in all, a good day!)


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