(I overhear a tourist couple at breakfast one table over.)

Customer: “Every day! This coffee is never hot enough.”

Customer’s husband: “You’re just gonna have to get used to that. In these countries that use the Celsius scale, they boil their water at only 100 degrees.”

(I am working as a bartender at a restaurant. The waitress has added a 15% gratuity because the party has been large and difficult to deal with.)

Customer: “Miss? What’s this ‘gravity’ crap?! I ain’t paying for no ‘gravity!’”

Waitress: *without missing a beat* “Ma’am, that’s what holds the food to your plate.”

Customer: “Oh, alright then.” *pays the check*

(I am working the tills at a supermarket. I am of Vietnamese descent but was born in London. An older gentleman comes through my till.)

Customer: *practically shouting* “Ni-Hao!”

Me: “Hello to you to sir, but that’s Chinese. I am actually Vietnamese.”

(I point to my name tag which in our shop goes by family name instead of first name. Mine is the very common ‘Nguyen’.)

Customer: “Don’t lie!”

Me: “I assure you sure I am Vietnamese.”

Customer: “There aren’t any Vietnamese people left!”

Me: “Pardon?”

Customer: “Yeah, the Americans killed them all back in the seventies or something.”

Me: “I think you may have your history confused. I assure you there is still a Vietnam and it is full of Vietnamese people.”

Customer: “Well I don’t know how you managed to escape but I wouldn’t say it so loudly. There might be Americans around looking for survivors.”

Me: *as I ring up his last item* “Probably a good idea. That will be £10.34 please.”

Customer: *as he pays* “Wouldn’t want a young lad like you getting caught!”

(The customer heads towards the exit, but unfortunately notices the security guard who also happens to be my brother. He is 6ft tall and a body-builder and I dread what might happen.)

Customer: “Ni-Hao!”

Brother: “Actually I’m Vietnamese.”

Customer: “Another one?! But the Americans wiped you all out!”

Brother: *standing to full height* “I think you might want to just keep on walking.”

Customer: “How dare you talk to me like that?! I’m going to call the Americans, and then they’ll come down here and shoot you!”

(I work in tech support for a major US cable company, and sometimes we have to deal with people who just don’t want to talk to you because you’re foreign.)

Customer: “You know what? I can’t understand a word you’re saying. You have an accent. Can I be transferred to someone who speaks English?”

Me: “I’m pretty sure I’m speaking English right now, sir.”

Customer: “Yeah, but I can’t understand you because of your accent.”

Me: “So, basically you’re saying you want me to transfer you to someone else.”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “Because I have an accent.”

Customer: “That’s right.”

Me: “And you can’t understand what I’m saying.”

Customer: “Exactly.”

Me: “So how come you were able to understand what I just said?”

*a few seconds of silence*

Customer: “Don’t be an a**-hole and just transfer me!”

(We’re closed for maintenance, and have shut off all the exterior lights, including those in drive-thru. We also put a sign on the drive-thru menu stating we’re closed. A car pulls into drive-thru, and I put on a headset. All of this takes places via drive-thru speaker.)

Me: “Hi, I’m sorry, but we’re currently closed for maintenance. Our other location down the street will be happy to serve you.”

Customer: “Hey, we just need a minute. Your lights are off, and it’s hard to see the menu.”

Me: “Sorry, I said we’re closed for maintenance. That’s why the lights are off.”

Customer: “Okay, we’re ready.”

Me: “Sorry, I said we’re closed. Our other store just a few blocks down the street will be happy to help.”

(The customer says their order.)

Customer: “Hello? Did you get that?”

Me: *gives up* “Welcome to [restaurant]. Please listen carefully as our menu options have changed due to the store being closed for maintenance. For service in English, please press one.” *switches to French* “Pour service en Francais, poussez le deux.” *switches to Spanish* “Para el servicio en Español, presione por favor el numero tres.”

(Faint laughter as the rest of the car’s passengers start laughing.)

Customer: “Uh…” *whispers* “What do I do?” *laughter from other passengers* “Uh… one?”

Me: “Thank you for calling [restaurant]. Our hours of operation are 7 am to 3 am, except today, because we are closed… due… to… maintenance. Please leave a message after the beep. BEEP!”

(Squeal of tires as the car peels away, the rest of the passengers killing themselves laughing.)